Conversations 1: William Reid
by Helena Fallon
Summary: A series of conversations that explore Spencer Reid's background and private life.
1. Chapter 1

Conversations 1: William Reid By Helena Fallon 

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

**Special thanks to REIDFANATIC who has encouraged me to publish this and provided the technical help.**

He entered the bare office with its functional unadorned cream walls, he noted the uncluttered mahogany desk at the far end. There was a telephone, writing pad and a rack of pens but it looked unused, this was not a working office. The blinds were down but open letting in the daylight. But the observations of his surroundings came to a close with the man's voice from behind him.

"Dr. Gideon, thank you for coming to see me," the proffered hand shook Gideon's firmly but there was no hint of dominance in the gesture, the psychologist merely sensed a natural self confidence in social situations.

"I was intrigued by the invitation," he neutrally replied.

"Please sit down," the man gestured to the two mahogany coloured leather chairs nearby with a bare mahogany coffee table within easy reach, "I am sure that you have come to your own conclusions about the security." Gideon gave a slight nod of assent, but his dark searching eyes never left the middle aged man before him. He quickly mentally filed away the information: he was tall with a familiar spare frame dressed in neatly pressed charcoal grey trousers, a light blue shirt was complimented by a co-ordinating grey and blue broad striped tie, the black cord jacket reminded Gideon of another's fondness for cord. Dark haunted brown eyes stared back at him through rimless spectacles, it was a look the team now associated with their youngest member. Slender fingers swept back the long greying brown hair from the gaunt face, there was no mistaking the resemblance even in this simple mannerism as he sat, nor the way he rested his chin upon the bony hand, the fingers poised in that certain way…Gideon mentally shook himself, the man was equally quietly scrutinising him. Their eyes met, "Shall I send for tea or coffee?" he invited.

"No thank you, I feel that I am duty bound to be here as this concerns a valued member of the unit."

"I remind you of him," he calmly stated. Gideon pulled his mind to attention, he was allowing himself to wander and he was not sure what this man wanted.

" There is no doubt that you are his father, but why did you wish to see me?"

"I have heard that he has been tortured ….. I was concerned …"

"You ought to see for yourself,"

"I don't want to distress him further …"

"Distress him further!" Gideon could feel his anger rise and fought to control his passionate soul, "He has been tortured by your absence since he was 10 years old …" Gideon was not going to let this man easily off the hook for his lack of love towards his son.

"And you do not think that I suffer!" William Reid spat, " you know little…. I spent my inheritance on Diana …. She was a drug addict at Berkley…. I put her through rehab 4 times down in Mexico so it wouldn't ruin her work prospects here. My family disowned me for caring about a druggie and then marrying her….Did you know that her mental problems are probably self inflicted because of the cocktail of drugs she took during those wild years. To her, I was 'reliable Will' when I picked up the pieces or 'Mr. Killjoy' when I refused to join in her indulgences." The leather chair could not contain the irate Dr. Reid any longer he rose and began to pace the room, Gideon watched speechless as he realised how very little was known about the Reid marriage and the assumptions that had been made.

"I still look after Diana you know. One third of my salary goes into a trust that pays for her to be in the best institution in Nevada, another third automatically goes into a trust fund for Spencer, when I die he will be very comfortable… Oh yes Dr. Gideon , I know what a living hell one's conscience can be , I've never stopped loving Diana and I have never stopped loving Spencer but this," he swept his arm before him, " this made its demands ….. I'm a top cryptographer, the family never knew …. Well you know what they are like over security and the 'cover' you're given. The political situation in the Middle East was just beginning to bubble up and I couldn't concentrate on national security while trying to get an innately stubborn woman to take her medicine. I was assured that the Organisation would keep an eye on them."

"But Spencer, why didn't you take him with you?" pleaded Gideon beginning to have some understanding of the enormity of the situation.

"Where! I was forever travelling all over the world attending top security meetings, he would have been placed in a boarding school….. and then there was Diana. I have never doubted Diana's love for our son, it would have broken her heart. I'm sure she would have killed herself. I couldn't have lived with that and would Spencer have coped if she had? What I did, I know it was cruel, but it was the lesser of the evils; nothing would have been right."

"No, it wouldn't,"Gideon sadly conceded, "but you ought to tell Spencer this … he should know the things a child never knew."

William Reid's pacing stopped, he placed his hands in his trouser pockets and turned to face Gideon still seated in the chair. He was trying desperately to calm the whirling emotions caused by the memories.

"If he wants to see me, I can give you a number and a meeting could be arranged," he replied and went to the desk to find a note pad. He brought the small square of white paper back to Gideon. "I'm quite prepared for rejection. Diana was difficult in her student years but I had hoped that her love for Spencer would have prevailed over the illness."

"I don't know the details, Dr. Reid, Spencer rarely talks about it, he mostly alludes to being bullied at school," Gideon confessed. The father nodded but he seemed lost, trapped in the thoughts of his actions.

A cell phone bleeped and both men reached into their jacket pockets'.

"My apologies, Dr. Gideon, duty calls, you will be taken back to your car. Thank you, I trust your judgement in this matter," he said in a terse manner and abruptly left. Through the now open door, came the agent who had brought him.

"Dr. Gideon, I'll drive you back now."

"Yes, thank you," a subdued Gideon replied.

The journey back was in silence, like the one before. Gideon thanked the driver once more when he reached the Mall car park and headed for his vehicle. His cell sounded as he unlocked the driver's door. It was Hotch informing him of another case, "I'll be there in 20," he assured as he fastened his seat belt. The drive to Quantico was dominated by his meeting with William Reid, he would have to find the right moment to talk to his son.


	2. Chapter 2

Conversations 2: Decision Time By Helena Fallon Disclaimer:I do not own Criminal Minds 

Hotch and Gideon were worried and had been since Reid had returned to the unit after a minimal time of sick leave. Both men knew that Reid was an excellent psychologist and very capable of deceiving another professional into believing he was ready to go out in the field again. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder did not disappear overnight they all knew that, but it was a case of living and working with it. But the disorder was unpredictable, sometimes the sufferer did not know when the trigger would present itself to remind the sufferer of the original event. The triggers could be ordinary, even trivial, to the casual observer but to the sufferer they could be that unseen crack in the ice that sends you cascading down into the abyss of distressing memories.

It had been a learning curve for the team to have two members recovering from their time in Georgia. J.J. had taken time off but she was also more willing to confide and to feel the support of her social circle and her partner, Simon who worked in Forensic Accounting. She had been helped to see that Reid did not in anyway blame her for anything that happened to him and Simon was sympathetic over the nightmares she sometimes experienced even now 4 months later. However, Spencer Reid was a very private person, he had used his massive intelligence to control, and at times suppress, his emotions since childhood. Both senior agents knew that he had a girlfriend who was not on the official contact list, while the rest of the team thought him unattached. Hotch and Gideon had only once got him to admit her existence and Hotch was thankful that he had been able to persuade Reid to give him her number. Consequently, Hotch could not bring in the official contact team when Reid was injured. She had made her own arrangements and only Gideon had briefly met her before returning to base where the team had already arrived for debriefing procedures. On his return, Gideon had merely said that she was the quiet dependable type and not to worry, but Hotch did worry because he sometimes felt that where Spencer Reid was concerned Gideon was not objective enough. It disturbed Hotch that the experienced Jason Gideon would allowed Spencer Reid a little more leeway than the others because he was his protege.

"He deliberately didn't answer his phone," Hotch said.

Yeah, I'll deal with it when we've caught the unsub."

"We can't carry him if Morgan and Prentiss can't trust him to do his job….."

"Leave it with me Aaron," Gideon chose to use his first name with a quiet firmness that indicated he was in control of the situation and that this was an end of the matter.

True to his word, Gideon went to confront Reid once the case was solved and the team was winding down. They would be flying out the next day, after breakfast, so Morgan Prentiss, J.J. and the Detective Lamontagne were spending the evening together at some club Lamontagne was eager to show them. Reid declined the half- hearted invitation; they didn't press him because Morgan was still annoyed by his behaviour. Hotch said he was going to catch up with paperwork and then talk to Hayley. He privately told Gideon that he was not going to mention Reid's non-show in the report but that he would be keeping a closer eye on him in future. With this warning in mind Gideon set off.

He was not hard to find, he knew Reid had a musical friend called Ethan who had dropped out, almost immediately he'd begun the F.B.I. Introductory Programme. The jazz club was a popular venue; Ethan was very good and had probably made the correct decision for his life. The older man scanned the large dim room and spotted his quarry alone, totally engrossed in the music, seated in a comfortable chair near the stage. Gideon headed for the table and the spare seat beside him.

In the conversation that followed Reid admitted that he was struggling and that he had deliberately not answered his cell. However, to Gideon's satisfaction, he promised that he'd "never miss another plane again," His mentor wanted to believe him but he felt that Spencer was holding far too much inside because he feared being seen as weak. Gideon was about to take a different track with the young man when Ethan came over for a brief break. Ethan Hyde was friendly enough and Gideon was pleased that Reid had kept contact with the musician via the vagaries of eventually answering his e-mails.

Ethan wisely read the situation and turning to Gideon said, "He's his own worst enemy isn't he … but he's got a lot to offer if only he'll let you help him over this." Spencer looked shocked, the expressive eyes flashed an instance of betrayal, but the words were said with a gentleness and a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder, "Take care, Spencer, and trust your team."

"Ethan! Get yer butt over here!" a voice sounded from the stage.

"My cue…" Ethan grinned and was gone.

"Spencer, I have something to tell you, lets go back to your room," Gideon suggested.

Reid turned big hurt eyes on to his mentor; Ethan had seen right through him but still wanted his friendship but would the team forgive his weakness. He followed silently, lost in his thoughts about not pulling his weight and lying.

"Will the team forgive me?" he simply asked as they turned into the main street for the short walk back to the hotel.

"Spencer, they care, we all care about you, they just do not know the best way to help. They see you pushing them away but that's one of the symptoms of PTSD. Morgan has been in stressful situations but he's never been kidnapped and tortured, he has found he own way of dealing with his stresses but they may not work for you." Gideon soothed, he knew that Reid would have the book knowledge concerning the disorder but when you experienced it you couldn't always put the written academic wisdom into practice. "You are a totally different personality, you have to find what is best for you in this situation. You have talked to Catherine haven't you?" Gideon challenged.

"I've had too, at first I was afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. Then there have been the flashbacks, the first time we went on one of our favourite walks I just lost it…. There is an avenue of trees whose branches arch over the path and it had been raining …the smell it was like the rotting leaves in that old burial ground…. He stopped speaking lost in the memory, remembering how later he had been grateful it had been early morning and there had not been anyone else to witness his loss of control. But more importantly, he remembered Catherine's intuitive response, her re-assurance, how she had got his shaking, terrified form back to her apartment and above all he cherished the smell of her rose based perfume. He would always associate that smell with her and everything that was warm and loving and good. A car horn brought him out of the reverie, he glanced at the older man keeping pace with him.

I've found having one of Catherine's linen handkerchiefs with me…. I've put it in a plastic bag so her rose perfume doesn't contaminate the rest of my clothing," he continued to explain, " but smelling her perfume brings back the good memories of being with her, especially if I have a nightmare or just can't get to sleep. Sorry, that must sound so pathetic…"

"No it doesn't," Gideon asserted, "it sounds like you have an effective copying procedure. That's what you are supposed to do… your are a good psychologist and you should put all that knowledge now into helping yourself and helping Catherine to help you and your relationship."

Their conversation naturally stopped as they closely passed several people but Gideon was not going to let his prodigy so easily off the hook.

"Is she coping with the impotence?" Gideon suddenly asked, he heard a sharp intake of breath at that unexpected question but he was unrepentant, as a psychologist you had to sometimes ask those embarrassing questions. "Spencer, I've been there, it is a common side effect and it will be very unusual if the men in our work don't at some time suffer from impotence…. We have to deal with extremely distressing cases, the scenes we witness, the traumatised survivors and their families, it goes along side expecting the occasional nightmares." He tried to make it sound normal; academically Reid could possibly reel off the medical studies in the effects of PTSD and related conditions, but this time it was personal.

Reid's soft higher pitched voice finally struggled to answer, "At first," he hesitated to find the words to discuss such intimate details of his life, "I felt terrible about it. I wanted that closeness that Catherine and I had before, it was such a warm and pleasurable part of our relationship and when I couldn't I felt I was failing Catherine, you know, that she would feel I didn't love her as much as before… You don't need to worry, if anything I'll think what we have been through together as strengthened us. Catherine wouldn't let me wallow in my doubts and kept telling me that our relationship had been firmly in place before the physical one. She is quite an old fashioned girl, she firmly told me on our first date that just because she was going out with me that night it didn't mean an automatic pass to her bed. Believe me, Catherine has expected to be courted and I have played by her rules."

"And now?" Gideon pressed.

"Sometimes its OK, I think things are getting better but Catherine never complains, she's too nice," Spencer confessed "Sometimes, I wish she'd have a good rant at me but she says that if she has a rant to head for the hills and to remember Lizzie Bawden did it."

Gideon chuckled, "She loves you Spencer, you'll come through this together as long as you confide in her," Gideon counselled, " Just trust her and above all don't shut her out like you do your colleagues."

"Is Hotch pissed off with me?"

Gideon sighed, typical Spencer tactic, changing the subject when anyone got too personal.

"He knows what you did, but he understands, its not going in his report this time but you do that again and Hotch will have you in his office and you might find yourself off the team…."

They walked through the hotel doors. Gideon watched the younger agent as they made their way through the foyer to the elevators in silence. He knew the truth of his words was sinking in and, after this talk, he felt he had a better assessment of Reid's mending. Overall, he felt things were getting better. Reid breathed, letting go of some of his inner tension. He was grateful that Gideon had asked him such intimate questions as they walked; at least the physical activity had dissipated some of the embarrassment rather than being tightly coiled in an office chair under the psychologist's scrutiny.

They did not speak again until they entered Reid's room.

"Shall I order something from room service?" the younger man asked.

"Not unless you want something," Gideon replied as he settled himself into the room's easy chair.

He shook his head but went over to the small fridge and retrieved a bottle of mineral water,

"So what's so important that it must be in the privacy of my room?" he was puzzled considering the rather personal subject that they had touched upon walking back. Spencer sat upon the double bed facing his mentor and took a drink from the bottle.

"I've spoken with your father," Gideon quietly stated and watched the young man's face mirror the emotions he usually hid: shock, disbelief, a flash of anger, sadness."

"How… Did you contact him?"

"No, he asked me to go and see him … "

"When ….. I don't understand?"

"Neither did I until I was contacted," Gideon began, "Your father works in government security. He's in a protected environment because of his skills ….. it's not for me to tell you what he does …

but he'd heard that you had been hurt, he wanted to know from me that you were all right ….."

"He left when I was 10 …. No contact ….." Spencer was struggling with the years of loss, the sense of abandonment welled up. He could feel tears forming, "I'm sorry, " he mumbled, reaching into his trouser pocket for a tissue. He blew his nose a couple of times and tried to reel in his emotions.

Gideon patiently waited while he regained some composure, eventually he looked up into his mentor's compassionate gaze.

"It's all right to cry, you know ….. you've suppressed too much, had to cope with adult situations at

far too young an age, but eventually it catches up with you," Gideon soothed, "I was as surprised as you by your father's approach, but I don't doubt the genuine love he has for you and your mother .."

Haunted brown eyes widened in the longing to believe these words.

"He was in an impossible position, and a lot rested on his shoulders. He believed that your mother would have killed herself if he'd taken you with him but, because of the security work, you would not have been together. He made the decision to leave and thought a total break would be best for you…it wasn't, but he's only human. Your father told me about how your mother was a drug addict as a student – he'd paid for rehab several times in Mexico to keep things quiet. His family disowned him because he loved your mother…he still does, still financially makes funds available to pay for the best…"

Spencer sat spellbound at this news, he couldn't believe the tremendous potential in his life that this revelation could bring.

"Do you think her addiction triggered the schizophrenia?"

"Your father thinks her problems are self inflicted; you ought to talk to him, there are things you couldn't have understood as a child, or were kept secret. This could give you the opportunity to fill in the gaps, see that your father is not a cold hearted monster…just a man with an ability that this country needed to use and he couldn't concentrate on his work with your mother's problems…"

"Did you like him?"

"I didn't dislike him," Gideon answered evenly, "I found I was seeing a lot of you in him. He didn't want to cause you any distress by approaching you but I think he's kept tract of you over the years;

I suspect he's extremely proud of you. I've not exactly had the best relationship with my own son, so I can understand some of the difficult decisions he made and you got caught in the middle."

"You think I should see him?"

"That's really up to you. I hope you will one day, you are old enough now to understand the wider canvas; his work is classified so don't even ask. See him as a father who feels the guilt, has felt it from the day he left, nothing will or can make up for those years but perhaps as adults you can come to an understanding."

"Where does he live?" asked Spencer, trying to put more detail on the sketchy picture that was emerging.

"I've no idea, probably a safe place considering his position, but he gave me a number if you want to contact him."

"But your meeting," the younger man pressed.

"Your father rang me, I was met by an agent and taken to an empty office in Langley. Our meeting was interrupted by his work but he wanted to know you were all right," Gideon stressed again.

Spencer Reid's mind was analysing the meagre details; over the years he'd imagined several scenarios for a more satisfactory reason for his father's disappearance from his life. His mother had

only ever raged about him 'being weak' but Spencer had distant memories of a gentle, playful man who had taught him to ride and shared nature books with him. When he had left, Diana had destroyed all the photographs with William in them to the extent that Spencer sometimes wondered if he had imagined the times with his father. He mind suddenly took another path.

"Did you mention Catherine?" he enquired, and noticed a moment of surprise in Gideon's features.

"No, but he probably knows about her…"he replied carefully, aware that the younger man was coming fast to his own conclusions about his father's work and security meant that even the estranged son's life came under scrutiny.

Spencer nodded, assimilating all of these details. It was a totally unexpected turn of events and he wished that he had Catherine there with him, just to feel her warmth wrap around his spare frame.

There was a knock at the door.

Gideon rose, "Shall I?" Spencer nodded and the older man opened the door.

"Is Reid OK?" Hotch enquired.

"Yeah, come in," Gideon assured with a closed smile, which only made Hotch wonder what secrets the senior profiler was keeping safe.

Hotch entered; he looked more approachable without his dark suit jacket and sombre tie. He gazed at Spencer sitting slightly hunched on the bed and sensed the torrent of emotion the young agent was wrestling to control. Hotch gave Gideon a questioning stare.

"I'll go and get some sleep," Gideon said meeting Hotch's scrutiny. " 'Night Spencer,"

"Goodnight," came the automatic response. But he seemed not to care; his inner battles demanded his attention.

Aaron Hotchner was clever, sensitive and every inch the leader of the team. The sensitive element of his personality he carefully protected from the everyday turmoil of work, but his wife and friends knew he would reach into this well of experience and compassion if he judge the situation needed it. He was unsure of Gideon's actions but he had come with his own agenda and decided upon a different approach. He moved to sit beside his agent upon the bed; this unexpected movement startled Spencer who moved to face him.

"I'll not do it again," he said, reminding him of a small boy who had been found out by his father for some misdemeanour.

Hotch's face softened, "I know you won't; we all have a breaking point, Spencer, I've met mine…you need to trust Gideon and myself. We have both been there, with PTSD … and come through it, but you just can't keep pushing your emotions away behind that big wall of intelligence all the time. Hayley's been asking about you," Spencer's face registered surprise, "She's a bit of a mother hen, always asking about you…. Wants to know if you and Catherine would come for Sunday lunch."

"How does she know about Catherine?" he asked defensively.

"We've seen you shopping in Alexandria and a couple of times in Washington… Hayley saw you before I did…well it's a woman thing isn't it, when I'm off duty I do switch off a little bit," he confessed with a twinkle in his eye.

Spencer managed a weak smile.

"It would be good for Catherine to have a bit of support too … the rest of the team are out of this loop," Hotch added.

Spencer nodded his understanding feeling honoured that the Hotchner's were reaching out to him in this way. They did not usually welcome junior BAU members into their home.

"Catherine like children?"

"Oh yeah, she's a doting auntie,"

"Good, she won't be scared of Jack then,"

Spencer managed a chuckle, " No…not at all and she's made sure that I could pass the child-friendly test with her brother's children."

Hotch was pleased to see his mood lifting, "Oh, I see I've got to revise the 'Reid Effect' principle."

Spencer grinned and the room light up with its warmth, "We've been trusted to babysit all day," he confided.

"I'm impressed, see you midday Sunday then,"

"Yes, thank you, I'm sure that Catherine will enjoy meeting Hayley and Jack."

"Good," Hotch squeezed Spencer's shoulder before he rose from the bed, "Now try and get some sleep, we're homeward bound tomorrow after breakfast and we've the weekend off."

Hotch left, leaving a totally drained Spencer still sitting on the bed mulling over the events of the evening.

He eventually glanced at the clock and decided it was too late to call Catherine. He got ready to go to bed, finally taking out of its plastic bag the lace trimmed linen handkerchief. He lay on his back breathing deeply as the rose perfume washed over him, filling him with the happy memories that he shared with this special woman. As he drifted to sleep, another memory surfaced from long ago, he thought of the tall thin man he called Dad, racing beside him in the park as he rode his bicycle for the first time without stabilisers.


	3. Chapter 3

Conversations 3: A Remembered Conversation 

**By Helena Fallon**

**I do not own Criminal Minds, I'm just borrowing them to play with some of my own characters.**

Hotch's annoyance with Gideon lingered; he had a distinct feeling that he was being left out of a loop where Spencer Reid was concerned. The way he had left to go to bed particularly troubled him. Gideon held many secrets but he hoped that the welfare of their youngest agent was paramount. He was relieved that his own visit had seemed to lift the emotionally charged atmosphere he had initially found, the fact that he had elicited a grin out of him was a triumph. The team missed the wonderful open, childlike smiles that could light up a room; the large, expressive brown eyes twinkling with the sheer pleasure of the moment. Reid had lost so much of that joy for life since Georgia, he would never be the same, but he hoped that he would come out of the worst part of PTSD knowing he was stronger than he had ever imagined he could be and still wanted as an agent. You could never say that you were completely cured because nightmares and flashbacks could just happen years after the event despite an uneventful interlude of the ordinary. Even Hotch's own life was sometimes invaded by such demon memories of events that had happened 5 and 8 years previously. He was grateful for the psychological support the FBI had given him and the strength and insight he had personally gained from these experiences. It had helped him to show fellow sufferers that you did find a way out of the hell and that you were still able to hold down a stressful position. Hotch valued his 'psych' evaluations; by knowing yourself you performed better out in the field but he had to agree that he preferred some of the resident psychologists to others. He slept fitfully that night and strangely recalled, like a film reel, a conversation with Reid some 9 months previously…

The team was homeward bound on their little plane, which was just like a second home when they considered the number of hours they spent in its compact confines. They were all winding down with a tired sense of a job well done. The team had saved two 2 kidnapped teenagers. The victims were traumatised and faced probably years of counselling, but for their families and the girls themselves, they had survived. Unfortunately, they had been called in after 3 others had been subjected to a brutal end. The two murderers faced the death penalty: Texas was not going to let the monsters get away with more liberal minds pleading for a life sentence. The horror of their crimes led the public to demand a swift reply of justice, it might sound brutal but they had not shown mercy to their victims. Hotch had many years ago stopped thinking about such judgements.

As a prosecutor he had sometimes felt frustrated, as an FBI agent of specialist team it was he job to catch the monsters before they committed any more harm. It was his job to work within the law and to his conscience he always did.

The cabin was quiet. Morgan was slipping into slumber, J.J. and Elle already deep asleep. Their youngest had been asleep but had woken and disappeared towards the toilet. Hotch and Gideon both noted his movement in their own light dozing.

"I ought to get her number off him," Hotch mumbled to the older man.

"Gideon sleepily smiled, "He's scared Morgan will tease him but it's lasted and she's a good influence."

"Amazing, isn't it, they're profilers but they have not picked up on the signs," Hotch observed.

"I think J.J. may have had the odd suspicion but she'd not say anything… wants to protect her own relationship…" Gideon stopped hearing the toilet door open.

Reid stopped by the kitchen area and came back with a cup of tea, not coffee.

Gideon smiled, "Come and join us," he invited the youngest.

Reid looked back at the seats he'd just passed and assured himself that the other 3 agents were sleeping. He was being invited to join both Hotch and Gideon; he would have to be on his guard, he sensed Gideon was on a fishing expedition. He slipped in beside Hotch who had let down his usual "agent in charge" mask. Suddenly, he seemed younger, his brown eyes softened and the mouth eased into a rare smile.

"Tea, that's my drink …" Hotch teased as Reid dunked the tea bag.

Reid smiled, "I've never said I didn't like tea its just I'm usually seen drinking strong coffee and for obvious reasons."

Gideon chuckled despite his desire to keep their end of the cabin quiet and not to rouse the sleepers.

"Yeah, I guess we all drink too much coffee … does she let you drink coffee?" he innocently slipped in.

Reid looked over the rim of the cup as he sipped the soothing liquid, his own eyes steadily meeting Gideon's. What he saw in his interrogator's face was warmth and affection. This man was like the father he had wanted, he trusted him not to attack his precious self-confidence in this matter.

"Only at breakfast," he whispered.

Gideon nodded, "She's good for you, isn't it about time to give Hotch her contact number or don't you think she's worthy to be on your contact list?" his mentor softly challenged.

"I'm probably not good enough for her…. I don't want…" he couldn't bring himself to mention Morgan by name.

"This is between us at this table," Hotch murmured, reaching into his jacket's inner pocket to bring out his leather bound diary. Reid turned his attention to the Unit Chief beside him who opened his diary on a clean 'notes' page and slid it over to him and then picked up Gideon's discarded pen off the table.

"Name and number…and it stays between us, even if you fill in an official form later. It's not our place to say anything to the others." Hotch assured. Reid was poised with the pen, should he start analysing his actions like he always did.

Gideon reached across the table and touched his bony hand lightly to get his attention, "Stop analysing, just believe in her and what you have together, we are sure she is of good character because you'd do nothing to jeopardise your position in this unit."

"Oh, she's of a good family… all in medicine, its…"

"Spencer if anything happened to you we wouldn't know how to reach her, she would be horrified to find out through the media or from a passing acquaintance…"Gideon reasoned.

"No, I mean…you're right, it's just …I've not discussed this with Catherine."

"Perhaps Catherine has assumed that you have put her name on your contact list, after all this is hardly a one night stand."

"Certainly not!" Reid's agitated voice sounded loud in the cabin and he immediately regretted his outburst. He looked round to see if the others still slumbered.

"Spencer, I reckon you've been seeing her a good 6 months," Gideon continued in his soothing voice.

"Yeah," Reid conceded.

"Hayley insisted that she was on my contact list after one month," Hotch confessed.

"Really!", Reid stared at him.

"Yes, and I was just a prosecutor in those days…I'm telling you, Catherine would have assumed, that since you are in a steady relationship that you have at least informed your boss…I'd not mention it to her…"

Reid's eyes opened wide at this advice and thought carefully that perhaps older, more experienced counsel should be heeded in this case. He concentrated upon the task in hand, and wrote in his small, clear style:

'Dr. Catherine Fox, cell no. …

University of Virginia, History dept. no. …

Gideon read the words upside down.

"Catherine's a historian…what area?"

"Ancient history,"

Gideon's mind whirled, Hotch was out of his depth. Spencer sensed this and his radiant smile lit up their corner, "She's an expert in cuneiform inscription, there are only a few scholars in the world who excel at this. She lectures in the cultures of Babylonia, Assyria, Hittite and the Urartian… it does tend to be a conversation stopper," Reid added mischievously.

"And she's a fellow genius," concluded Hotch.

"Yes, but she's had a better childhood and is not socially awkward like me," he confessed.

"Reid she's smoothing out the awkward bits," Hotch assured, "One day, Morgan will wake up and realise how much you have changed and by that time, what he thinks won't matter…In fact, it doesn't matter now what your colleagues think. You two have something that is important to your lives, not anyone else's."

Spencer pushed the diary back towards his boss, "What gave me away?"

"Oh, the improved dress sense, the cell phone call once in your car before going home…the overall increased self-confidence," replied Hotch.

"Getting as much of your paperwork done at the end of a case, just like Hotch does, before going home, knowing she's probably going to jump you as soon as you walk through the door," continued his mentor.

He looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah, she does that…it's all your fault," he turned accusingly at Hotch, who feigned ignorance, "Calls you Mr. Killjoy. It's amazing we ever got on a date never mind to the end of one!"

"Mmm…I'd take the fifth, Hotch," Gideon counselled.

"Sounds familiar…its part of the job," Hotch defended himself.

" She knows, Catherine copes because she does have her own interesting research to occupy her," a stillness settled upon the table, and Spencer quietly added, "She's like my anchor to normality in our crazy and often brutal world."

Hotch and Gideon both metaphorically held their breaths, this was the real introspective Reid sharing a rare confidence. Gideon nodded, encouraging their genius to trust this moment.

"I've never known an individual like her…she's so still, such a calm person, I just feel relaxed with her. It was weird, right from the start, it was like we'd known each other for ever…sorry that sounds all rather sugary romantic."

"No, it doesn't, soul mates are rare. Most people never meet them, others settle for second best, I let mine go," Gideon admitted. Reid was lost for words, but Gideon continued not expecting a reply,

"Stephen's mother, I ruined the relationship I had with Barbara. Thought work owned me… Try to live life to the full when you're together, never forget to tell her how important she is to you… I neglected to cherish Barbara and in the end, she left me because she felt that she and Stephen were too far down my list of priorities… When I finally noticed, it was too late, she was dying of cancer and with her death I devoted my self to work and our son buried himself in his studies. "

"Sorry, Gideon, I didn't mean to pry upon such personal memories," the sensitive young man apologised.

He shook his head, "You didn't, I'm letting you know where I went wrong so try not to repeat what I did just because I'm your mentor…Besides, the scars are fading: bridges are being built with Stephen and I have met a very understanding lady called Jane… I'm trusting you not to repeat this to our three musketeers."

"Of course," the youngest promised.

"Five minutes to touch down!" the intercom broke the moment; each mans' shields snapped into place.

"I'll go wake them," said Reid, rising from his seat.

Hotch observed Gideon, it was rare for Gideon to speak about such personal matters. He hoped that Reid would remember his wise words that were wrought from bitter experience.

Hotch woke to find the weak light of dawn seeping through the curtains. The whole dream was so vivid…it was how he had remembered it happening. Other thoughts bubbled into his consciousness; they had not been able to save Elle, but he also felt she was wavering in her commitment to the job because of the sacrifices you had to make in your personal life. She had wanted to join the BAU but once there didn't like the reality. She was not the first nor would she be the last, but it was the way of her leaving that upset Hotch. Both knew she was guilty but Elle would admit nothing, he couldn't let her continue in his unit because he couldn't trust her.

Reid was different, he had been getting on so well until his kidnapping. Even now, the rest of the team hadn't realised there was a woman in his life. He seemed so secretive about her and yet when he had checked her out unofficially, there was nothing in her background to indicated problems of acceptance by the FBI. He hoped that he and Hayley would be able to detect what the barrier was but until she had been officially checked out, Catherine couldn't even attend the Christmas party. Perhaps it was just the normal secretive Reid and Hotch feeling guilty because the FBI would have treated her better had she been on the official contact list. He decided that it was useless trying to get anymore sleep and headed for the shower.

It was 7:15 a.m. and Hotch was still restless, he knew why and he resolved to go and tackle the source of his present unease. There was no one about as he tapped on Gideon's door. He knew he was an early riser and the door opened within seconds. Gideon said nothing as he opened the door wider for him to gain entry but the older man noted that Hotch was wearing his 'no nonsense air' about him.

"Sleep well?" he mildly enquired.

"No," Hotch replied and ploughed on with the reason, "What did you say to Reid last night?"

"I did my job like you expect me to do. I talked about the PTSD and how it was affecting him and Catherine… she is incidentally very supportive; seems to be doing all the right things. He talks to her, which is more than he does with his colleagues, but I don't think Morgan's teasing over the years has made him inclined to trust the others with his worries. Then of course, to compound all of this, there is his background… As Reid spent most of his childhood being isolated by his intelligence and having to take on adult responsibilities, which some adults would have had difficulties with… Reid doesn't naturally confide."

"We know all of this, Jason, something else happened," Hotch pressed, he was losing patience with Gideon's tactics, "I'm the team leader, if you know something that could have an effect on his performance within the team it is your duty to tell me."

Gideon sighed, "This is unofficial, not to be on any report unless Reid tells you."

Hotch nodded, he was intrigued, was Reid really taking drugs? He knew Morgan and Emily had suspected when he first returned but he knew that Reid had told the ambulance staff about the drugs he'd been given. Reid had a tox screen at the hospital and had been through the detox procedure, consequently, he was now summoned for regular tests. He was clean as far as these were concerned, surely he'd not found some clever way to mask an addiction. He and Gideon had been careful to check his drinking habits but there was nothing out of the ordinary and only the usual high levels of caffeine had shown up on the tests.

"Well?" Hotch prompted, as Gideon seemed to be reluctant to the break the silence between them.

"I have seen William Reid," he said softy, carefully watching Hotch's reaction. Hotch let out the breath he was holding and sank into the nearby chair.

"Jeez Jason, I thought for a moment you were going to tell me he was doing drugs," a relieved Hotch confessed,

"He gets regular checks after his hospitalisation, he wouldn't be able to deceive those, what's got into you?"

"I over heard Morgan and Emily talking some weeks back and they wondered if he was using ...You know, by law, I couldn't say anything because those extra tests the department demands are a medical procedure and covered by the privacy code."

"And you were listening to a private conversation…"

"Yeah, they didn't know I was there and I couldn't blame their conclusions because some of the manifestations of PTSD and drug addiction are similar," Hotch felt foolish and relieved at the same time. He sighed, "How did he take the news about his father?"

"Look, I judged it the right time to tell him, I learnt a lot about Diana Reid … the most important bit being she was a drug addict at Berkeley…"

"It could have caused her mental problems?" Hotched interrupted.

"That's what William Reid thinks and he was in a difficult position over Spencer, in the end he thought it best to leave him with Diana. He heard about Spencer being tortured, he just wanted to know that he was all right…he didn't want to approach him personally and cause him unnecessary distress."

"How did he hear about the torture?" Hotch's mind wanted more clarification.

"He works in national level security, Aaron, he may have left Spencer but he as managed to get regular checks on him."

"He must be very senior to get that sort of information…."

"He couldn't tell me but he did say he was a cryptographer,"

"You liked him didn't you?"

Gideon shrugged and gave a sad smile, "Aaron he's not a monster, they are very alike, not just physically but there is a sensitivity and that underlying core of goodness that seems to be at the essence of Spencer. I've been there …I made the wrong choices too but I've never stopped loving Stephen and I know he loves Spencer. He needs to know a lot more about his family and only his father can provide those answers."

"You've not answered my question?" Hotch pulled the topic back on track.

"He was surprised, obviously the news about the drug addiction offers up a lot of hope for him. He didn't say but Catherine seemed the maternal sort to me and Spencer's spent all these years wondering if he was going to become a schizophrenic like his mother…He's not allowed himself to dream of a future with a woman, now there is something more to hold on to."

"Just at the right time," Hotch mused, feeling the tension flow from his body, "Does his father want to see him?"

"He gave me a number to ring if that's what Spencer wanted but he was not going to force himself into his life. I think you might like him or does that scare you?"

"My concern is Spencer Reid's general welfare, especially with the PTSD."

"Step back a bit, Aaron, he has made his decision, we are supporting him in the way he wants. I think, the rest of the team should think about it more deeply."

"What do you mean?"

"Thinking he was using drugs with his mother's history! He's terrified of taking anything stronger than aspirin and since Georgia you can add any narcotic to the list. Now that might be a problem in the future if he ever needs strong pain relief…he might fake he's all right, he's a damn good actor, our Reid."

Hotch let Gideon's evaluation of the situation sink in. "Perhaps I should have said something to Emily and Morgan?"

"You couldn't, you said so yourself…. You're a lawyer," Gideon shook his head, "look I'll give the pair of them separate pep talks about PTSD, re-assure them that Reid is only …oh God! Here I am making it sound like a walk in the park and we both know that the symptoms may lessen, even go away for a time, but wham a sudden reminder…"

"Yeah, they need to know, they think J.J.'s fine but if she's on the plane when she has a nightmare about those dogs …it will shock them out of their complacency. Reid would be supportive but I think Emily is out of her depth. She deals with stress in a detached way by comparison, she sees but doesn't empathise on the same level as Reid. Morgan and his damn macho image, he thinks because he coped with abuse on his own he can cope with anything the job hurls at him…. I wonder if he will ever meet his breaking point. The trouble is when you have coped with things for so long, like Morgan, you think you have the answers for yourself. I think if Morgan ever came to his own personal fall into the abyss of PTSD, he'd hit the ground even harder than Reid has." voiced Hotch as he thought about the team dynamics and how they had all been tossed around in very stormy seas of experience.

"Come on, let's go get some breakfast. I need some coffee, I bet Reid is on this third cup by now," said Gideon as he opened the door waiting for Hotch to join him.


	4. Chapter 4

Conversations 4: Catherine 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds but I have borrowed the characters to play with a few of my own.**

Spencer had been gone for 6 days. She could always find something to occupy her time without him, and after almost a year of knowing him, she felt she coped with his work quite well. It was only at bedtime that she keenly felt his absence, at all other times her work, family or her widely scattered friends could fill the time when she tried not to worry, particularly since his ordeal in Georgia. Recently, she felt she had glimpsed the man beginning to emerge from that trauma; being allowed back to work had helped his self esteem and aim towards what the BAU considered normality. She smiled to herself at that thought: normality. Her clinical psychologist father would have been in his element; two geniuses to observe and impart his own brand of wisdom on how to create a sense of normality in this world and not feel too isolated from your less intellectually gifted fellows.

Children are cruel to those that do not fit into their idea of normal: Spencer had told her his problems of bullying in public school, Catherine had been home schooled and saved from this torment. When she had attended her local university, her now retired father bought an apartment so she could attend as a 12 year old. Spencer too had attended his local university but for him there was the responsibility of his increasingly unstable mother. Both she and Spencer had shared the experiences of never being able to go through the rite of passage of the school prom, or the undergraduate socialising scene. By the time they were 15, they had their first degrees. Spencer had his first PhD in Mathematics at 17, a second in Physics at 19, and finally a third in Psychology at 21. He had already caught the attention of Dr. Jason Gideon and rules were bent to allow this young man to join the FBI. The CIA had noticed Catherine's first PhD in Mathematics, also at 17. However, she had rejected the approach and left for England to apply her mathematical clear thinking to de-cyphering ancient cuneiform tablets. It was a deliberate choice, leading to the next doctorate and her recognition as one of a handful of experts in a rarefied field.

Catherine's career choice had disappointed both her parents who hoped that she would turn to medicine, like her three older half brothers. Her father, particularly, thought that her innate serenity, and willingness to listen and not jump to conclusions might steer her towards psychological services, but Catherine had an inner world of creativity that the family had not discovered. Although she had already a name for herself in the academic world she had become secretly a children's author. These books seemed to write themselves and then there was the pleasure of illustrating them. Catherine had told Spencer, trusting him to keep her confidence, telling him the news of the book awards, that she never personally collected, for her Montana Mice stories. She was at that moment finishing the last illustration for the next book, 'The Montana Mice in the Winter', she had worked steadily through the seasons. The first book had been 'The Montana Mice in the Springtime' and she had been fortunate to have found a marvellous agent, Jacob, who negotiated her book deals. Jacob had no idea that she had already written a further 4 stories with these characters and there were 3 stories about a teddy called Solomon who had not been introduced to him yet. It was not the writing that took the time but the intricate paintings that chronicled her imaginary worlds. Jacob had told her yesterday that he had got her a superb merchandising deal and there was talk of an animation proposal, all in all, her creativity could make her comfortably rich. Spencer had never asked about her money, but he realised she was successful because her Mice books were all in the children's top 20. Her success meant that she owned this large comfortable apartment and she had a healthy investment portfolio.

Over the months, Spencer spent increasingly more time at her comfortable apartment in Alexandria, and since Georgia, he had virtually moved in. He still kept his own apartment as a safety net if things fell apart, but gradually his treasured books, CDs, and clothes were finding a new home with her. She knew that he was really happy with their relationship when his beautiful lute took up residence in the corner of her living room. It was part of a private world they shared; he loved to play the music of the Elizabethan composer, John Dowland and she would sing the haunting words of her favourites. It reminded them of their meeting at a concert of lute music at George Town University. It had been an unnerving experience for both of these geniuses when they found themselves quickly slipping into an easy relationship without the awkwardness and faltering of previous experiences. They did ordinary things, preferring to shop and cook a meal together rather than eating out and shared a dislike of Chinese food. They were avid readers, preferred a theatre performance to a movie and had an appreciation of a wide variety of music. Spencer rediscovered a love of riding and, along with regular walks, was their main form of exercise.

The events of Georgia had impacted upon this cosy world. Previously they would shop for fresh fish to cook but now the smell was a trigger for unpleasant memories and they no longer ate fish or wandered down to the harbour area. The smell of rotting leaves triggered one of the first flashbacks that Catherine had witnessed outside the hospital, and so began a steep learning curve to help Spencer cope with the traumatic aftermath of his kidnapping and torture. A heightened sense of anxiety made it difficult to be in quiet open spaces and for several months he would not go riding with her in the local countryside. Gradually, these feelings subsided and Catherine was able to introduced him to old haunts, persuading him to help her re-pot some plants in the kitchen gave him the opportunity to touch wet and rotting plant matter. It took patience and re-assurance wrapped up in a love that was strongly wrought around the deep roots of their friendship.

Spencer had been allowed to return to the BAU but it worried Catherine that all her patient re-assurance and piecing together was being torn down by the demands of the job. Spencer had always been a sensitive man but now he empathised even more with the victim which, in turn, led to further nightmares. She wondered what his colleagues were doing when he returned to her thin, ashen and admitting to fitfully sleeping after a case. Sometimes, she would have a few days to work her magic; to patch him up with some decent food, hold him close when the nightmares struck, and re-assure him that whatever happened she would be with him even if he decided he couldn't face this form of work anymore. He lurched too close to depression, questioning his abilities and his place on the team. She watched him carefully when he began to regularly drink spirits in the evening and had been angry with him. It had been their first and only row to date. Spencer cut back and although he would still drink a small Scotch in the evening, it was only one and he knew she kept her eye on the level in the bottle. Before this present case, they had spent a couple of days thinking about the alternative lines of career his qualifications could open up for him. It was then that she missed her father most, although she felt the late Bernard Fox would have pronounced that the multi- talented Spencer was capable of doing anything he wanted.

Catherine pulled herself away from the internal digressions of her mind and brought herself back to the present. She rose from the glass topped kitchen table and carefully picked up the small pot off water and the larger glass jar, containing two fine squirrel haired paintbrushes in a dirty grey liquid, and took them both over to the sink to be washed. While there, she glanced out to the scene below in a quite side street, she noted that there were more people than usual and concluded that the commuter rush hour must have begun by the tired way they passed down the street. Catherine only wore a watch if she had commitments for the day; she was never late for an appointment but when she was working at home her days were often spent in ancient worlds or lost creating an imaginary, playful world for children. She decided to leave the picture drying on the table and made her way to the smallest bedroom, which she had converted to a study. The room was made to feel even narrower than it was by the heavy floor to ceiling dark oak bookcases standing against 3 of the walls and overflowing with numerous titles. The tomes that would not fit upon the shelves were piled neatly on the dark oak floor and under the old- fashioned oak desk, before the window, which was itself hidden by scarlet venetian blinds. She loved this room, the furniture had once lived in her father's study and just having it with her being used once more made her content with the numerous happy memories she had of him. The room had a comforting smell of warm old wood and was the only place in the apartment that had an untidiness about it, befitting the academic image of an historian; she purposefully dressed primly and in an unfashionable way when she was in that role. But at this moment, she was in denim jeans and an old purple T-shirt and stepped over a discarded lever file to reach the desk and the computer. There was an e-mail from Spencer apologising for not calling the previous evening but saying he'd be home later and hoped that the meeting with Jacob had gone well. It did not need a reply but there were some 20 others, from around the world, that did.

Reid had deliberately feigned dozing on the way home, although no one seemed very social: the three who had been clubbing were catching up on their sleep, Hotch was writing his report and Gideon was scribbling away on an A4 writing pad. Reid had never dared to ask what he was writing but he reasoned that it was notes for future lectures or for the next book. He didn't really care at that moment, he just wanted to be left alone for the rest of the day. When they got back to the BAU office, he set about filing his report and was tackling some of the usual requests for help when Hotch called him quietly over to send him off for yet another drug test. They never took long and so far the others had not asked where he disappeared to, perhaps because Hotch always seemed to send him on an errand along the way. Hotchner was a sensitive man in such matters, Reid had not wanted the dilaudid that was injected into his veins, he knew that some of this had been seen on the video feed but the FBI wanted to make sure that he was clean. All FBI personnel had to take regular mandatory drug tests and he just kept being summoned for extra ones, he obeyed, but he felt that Hotch was on his side concerning the frequency. However, even after the initial de-tox, Spencer had felt a yearning for the drug and it had taken some weeks for that feeling to fade. The medical personnel had been very understanding but he also knew that he did receive searching looks because he had lost so much weight, and had no appetite after his ordeal. This and the disturbed nights made him have a dark hollow eyed look and the flash backs compounded the haunted wasted appearance. He surmised that all of this could lead some people to think he was using.

He signed off another unsub profile recommendation; he had worked through at least 15 since their return and this one would be the last before going home for the weekend.

"Hey, Reid, you've been very quiet, you OK man?"

Reid looked up to find Morgan beside him, he wondered if he had been forgiven for his non-show.

"Yeah, I'm going home now," the younger agent assured placing the form in the folder to be passed on for faxing.

Morgan remained rooted beside him unsure how to continue. He'd been called into Gideon's lair for a chat earlier, it had been wide ranging but Morgan's annoyance with Reid had been raised. Gideon had assured him the he and Hotch knew what had happened and the matter was over, it was just one of those things when cell phones didn't work but at least Reid had seen his friend. The older man would not elaborate, of course, but their conversation had turned to symptoms of PTSD in general and Morgan realised that certain symptoms were superficially like drug addition, Morgan felt a twinge of guilt and later told Emily to set her mind at rest.

"You got anything planned for the weekend?" he conversationally asked.

Reid rose from his chair and gave the folder to one of the clerical assistants as she passed, and then turned back to answer, "Yes, I'm busy,"

"Good, just hoping you had something to do…. Did you enjoy seeing your friend?"

The younger man knew he was trying to reach out to him again, to make sure that he was not on his own. It was his own fault, he didn't let people here into his world outside, "Look, Morgan, I do have a life away from here, but I like to keep it separate from work…it helps me cope with the job better," he wasn't lying and hoped that Morgan would not be hurt by the distance he was creating, "Stop worrying about me, I'm on the mend…seeing Ethan has helped to get some things in perspective because he wasn't part of the team."

"OK, but you've been so…" the older agent searched for the best way to express things.

"Remote….unapproachable?" Reid suggested, "symptoms of PTSD. Stop worrying about me, it's making me feel nervous that the team is concentrating on me rather than the case. Do you really think Hotch and Gideon would let me be here if they thought I couldn't do the job? All I want to do is to get on with my job, a lot happened and I've had to take stock of what happened. I know I've changed but what matters is that I can still do this." Reid stressed hoping that this would be an end of the pitying looks behind his back. 

"Sorry, we all just care about you, but… have a good weekend," he stumbled again to really have a conversation through the walls that seemed to be around their youngest member at the moment.

"I will, hope Clooney gets some exercise," Reid mischievously said with a boyish smile and Morgan felt instantly happier as he watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and head for the doors.

She heard the door close and pushed herself from the wheeled office chair; he was hanging up his green cord jacket in the hallway when she caught up with him. He turned and smiled, opening his arms out to her, inviting the hug she longed to give and he to receive. He loved the feel of this warm and utterly cuddly woman. They were total opposites physically: where he was tall with a very thin frame, all sharp angles and hard bones, Catherine was a foot less in height and all softness and curves. When you are so thin yourself it feels so sensual to be hugged by someone who has a little flesh on their bones. Catherine was not fat, but to Spencer the term 'pocket Venus' was just so apt when applied to the woman he loved. He drew her in, breathing in the faint old fashioned perfume, letting her inner stillness seep into him and sweep away some of the tension lingering from the case. He sensed his own inner-self shift from being out of kilter, with its own crazy disjointed swirling, gradually slow and begin to settle to be in sequence with Catherine's unique stillness. They needed no words, these moments were beyond verbal explanation, it was just pure togetherness and the sense of total trust and with it peace, that made them both know that their relationship was special and worth working to keep. He finally bent his head lower and kissed her cheek, she sighed swiftly reaching up to capture his head, hands pressing on the soft hair, firmly bringing his lips into reach for a deep kiss as she balanced on her toes.

"It's not fair being so short," she softly whispered with twinkling eyes, he had learnt lone ago to read that message.

"Doesn't seem to stop you when I'm lying down…" he invited, taking her hand and heading for the bedroom.

An hour later they were lying side by side, relaxing in the after glow of their lovemaking. Catherine sensed that something had happened in New Orleans to affect Spencer's mood, she felt there was an optimism that had been missing before he left. She felt him move, stretching his long frame the length of the bed. She rolled over on her side to face Spencer as he sprawled lazily beside her. He looked relaxed and younger than his 26 years, he turned his head to meet her scrutiny with a beautiful smile which she automatically returned.

"What?" he asked, reading her questioning eyes.

"You seem…happier than you were before this case, did you manage to meet up with Ethan?"

"Yeah, it was good to see him, he helped me get some things into perspective," he remembered how 

Ethan had seen straight through him and felt humbled to have the wisdom of a man who had faced his own demons and found his own path.

Spencer felt Catherine's fingers gently stroking his hair away from his eyes, " I deliberately didn't answer my cell..." he confessed and explained how Gideon had sought him out after the case to talk.

"So everything's OK with Gideon and Hotch?" she pressed.

"They understood, actually I forgot to tell you that we're invited to the Hotchner's for Sunday lunch…It's a rare invite, you know the others are out of this loop…He would like you to meet Hayley…thinks it would be good for you to meet a woman who has put up with the job for years."

"What a kind thought and I hope you did accept,"

"Yeah, I thought you'd like to meet them and they have this little toddler called Jack…" he knew the thought of meeting another child would settle the matter, she was something of a child magnet.

She watched carefully as the mood changed and she saw indecision in haunted eyes once more, there was something else. Catherine waited, if he wanted to tell her then he would, he seemed lost for a moment, "Spencer…" she whispered and he reached up to hug her close.

Spencer steadied himself, "Gideon has seen my father…" he began and repeated the conversation.

"Jeez! Spencer!" she exclaimed, "your Mom was an addict…but then her schizophrenia could be a consequence of self abuse…this is wonderful news!" she had raised her head to look him in the eye. "You've spent all these years terrified of becoming like her…" she stopped, she didn't want to go on. But there was this unspoken understanding between them. Spencer's hand gently rested on her abdomen, he understood the maternal side to her. She still loved him despite his fears of the possibility of an inherited mental illness that made him reluctant to consider fathering children. Spencer was lost in his own thoughts, this news had held so much promised with it. Catherine had introduced him to her brother's family, he had held baby Ben only 2 hours after his birth. It had been a terrifying moment when Catherine had placed the baby in his arms and then he had looked at the vulnerable new life. At that moment, his heart melted, stirring emotions he'd never felt before and he looked into her deep grey eyes and wondered if he could dare to dream a future for Catherine and himself.

"He gave Gideon a number if I wanted to contact him," he finally added.

"Have you called him?"

"No, I don't know what to say…I should be angry after all this time…I just want to know more about Mom and the drugs, and…I think Gideon liked him but then Gideon has his own guilt over his own son…"

"The real problem is you're afraid because you might like him," the clear-sighted Catherine replied. Spencer reached for her again hugging her close, remembering how he had loved his Dad, loved doing things with him, but then his Mom's illness took over and his world turn upside down when his Dad had left. He had so desperately wanted to be with him, but then there was nothing until Gideon had told him about the meeting and his concern for him…

"He didn't have to contact Gideon, he did things in a very sensitive way…He was quite brave you know," Catherine continued, breaking through Spencer's thoughts, "He actually met the famous Dr. Jason Gideon, he's a scary guy, you know. He met your mentor who would have spotted any subterfuge if there had been any."

Spencer sighed, trust his good, sweet, sensible Catherine to tackle the subject head on, he could understand why her father had been disappointed in her choice of career because her talents did seem to be wasted.

"You know, you are afraid of meeting him because a) you might like him and b) if you do like him then you won't want him to disappear from your life again because if he did, it would be like he was abandoning you a second time."

"You are a damn good psych."

"Yeah, I know but I like the comfortable little world I've created here, or has my Dad put it, 'you are deliberately dropping out of the normal world around you'…it's what my Mom's sisters did too."

"I don't know what I'd say … you know I've been playing through several scenarios in my mind," Spencer confessed.

"You won't know what to say until you have taken the plunge to call him, then how about a simple 'Hi Dad' and take it from there," she suggested and Spencer knew she was not going to let the subject drop. Spencer acknowledged to himself that he had postponed contacting his father until he was with Catherine. He just wanted her strength beside him because so much of what might be revealed affected their future plans.

Catherine reached for the phone that sat on the bedside table and placed it on the bed beside Spencer, "Just ring, and say Hi, I'll stay beside you," she assured and stroked his arm, but he grabbed her hand, leaned forward and quickly kissed her cheek. He decisively lifted the receiver and dialled the memorised number. He heard the ringing on the line, and felt his heart speed up, his palms began to go clammy and wondered if he would have any voice to answer. Then the ringing stopped.

"William Reid," a man's voice answered, a deeper voice than the child remembered.

The listening Catherine squeezed his hand in encouragement, Spencer took a deep breath,

"Hi, Dad," he was amazed that his voice sounded so normal considering the way his body was responding to the tension he felt.

"Spencer!…Spencer, I never dared to think you would call, It's so good to hear your voice," the voice betrayed the older man's struggled for emotional control. It pleased the psychologist in Reid, this sounded genuine and gave him the confidence to want to continue.

"How are you, I heard that you had been hurt? William Reid tentatively asked, careful not to mention the words kidnap and torture in case these were things his son did not wish brought up.

"I'm on the mend, Dad, profilers don't usually get kidnapped and tortured but I'm back at work and the team is supportive," Reid answered truthfully, and felt his heart rate dropping as he slipped into the conversation after all these years. It was nothing like any of the scenarios he'd imagined, he looked into Catherine's smiling face and felt he needed to consolidate this moment. "I was wondering if we could meet sometime, I've a lot of questions and the phone seems so cold…"

Spencer plunged ahead with what was on his mind.

"Of course you have lots of questions, Spencer, you were only a child and I couldn't take you into my confidence…I live on my own in Washington, a short walk from the Dupont Circle … if you would like to come here… we would not be disturbed," his father's voice sounded calmer too now, both men trying to reach for a normality. "Are you free this weekend?" the older Reid asked, hoping that his fragile moment of communication would not break.

"I've only tomorrow free but perhaps that's a little too soon for you," Spencer shyly asked, wondering if he was going to fast in wanting to establish contact, but Catherine was squeezing his hand and her faced was beaming encouragement beside him.

"No, no that would be fine, anytime after midday," he assured, and gave his son the address.

"Yeah, I know the area, I'll probably be there around 2, and Dad …thank you,"

"It's me who should say thank you, Spencer, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then,"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Spencer assured, "Bye," he finished and felt both emotionally drained and elated at the same time, as he replaced the receiver. Catherine hugged him, and he sensed her excitement.

"See, it wasn't anything like you imagined and he wants to see you too," she said triumphantly.

"Well, I'm committed now," stated Spencer and he felt relieved that he had taken the huge step to call his father.

"I'm going with you...I'll go to the Phillips Collection while you see him, and we can meet up after and you can tell me how things went," Catherine's mind was already racing ahead thinking ways to be supportive but unobtrusive, but she liked what she had overheard. It had always puzzled her that with her brother's children Spencer was so patient and gentle, and once he felt relaxed, would sing rhymes with them and make monster cookies with Lucy. She had asked him where he had learnt these skills and he had spoken of a father who cooked and taught him chess and a mother who had sang rhymes and later introduced him to early European choral music. Over the months, she discovered that Spencer had been a much loved child in those early years which was why when his parents marriage did fall apart, it had shattered his trust in adults and relationships in general.

Spencer reached for the supportive woman he loved, his sensitive fingers swept teasingly down her back and she snuggled closer and let passion take over the rest of the evening.

Seven miles away, an older man with equally sensitive fingers reached for the companionship of his violin and began to play the first strains of J.S.Bach's second partita. As he played the apartment was filled with the haunting music but in the man's heart a tiny flame burned a little brighter. Only a parent could truly understand the emotional bond with a child; an invisible thread that linked the two despite the years of estrangement. William felt the love he had always had for his child well up and he sank all his regrets of the past and hopes of a better future into the music that sang from his instrument.


	5. Chapter 5

Conversations 5: Father and Son 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds but I have borrowed the characters to play with a few of my own.**

**This is a long chapter!**

**The quote towards the end is taken from: 'The Adventure of the Copper Beeches' to be found in 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

William Reid was normally considered a calm person, utterly reliable in a crisis to steady others, but he had woken that morning full of anticipation. For the first time in years the confident cryptographer felt nervous at the thought of a social meeting. It was 16 years; the years had passed in a haze of guilt that was pushed forcibly in to the background so that he could concentrate upon his work. Spencer would have celebrated his 26th birthday the previous month, he would not be meeting the genius child he had left but a brilliant and valued man in his own field of expertise. William Reid acknowledged to himself that he was terrified of the very thing he had inflicted upon his own child: rejection.

He had busied himself with the usual tasks of a free weekend; he had shopped, and cooked a few things for his freezer and cookie jar. Although he had lived alone since the breakdown of his marriage, he had always loved cooking and avoided fast food and shop frozen meals. The very act of cooking made him remember how he had often cooked in his marriage, and had taught Spencer to prepare dishes with him. William looked at the kitchen counter, on the baking tray were chocolate brownies, he wondered if the man would still like the childhood favourite. It was 12:15, he decided it was best to distract himself with work and went into his study; there were always realms of e-mails to read.

Catherine had suggested going to look at the house. The house was something she had been keeping an eye on for 10 weeks now. It was in the conservation area and a large stone and brick residence of elegant proportions built around 1900. It looked in need of some loving care from the outside and she thought the price optimistic, she waited and was satisfied when it began to drop. The news from Jacob, of the merchandising contract, had prompted her to set up a viewing and was pleased that Spencer had agreed to go with her. Spencer thought it would be a distraction from thinking about the afternoon but he also knew his maternal Catherine was dreaming of this run down house as a family home. They had been all over the building from the ample cellar to the spacious attic. He had been silent for most of this but observed his companion, she was a shrewd buyer and knew a surprising amount about the costs and need for particular expertise because of the conservation area. They were now strolling back along the pleasant tree lined streets towards the apartment.

"Well, what do you think?" she suddenly asked. It had taken her about 7 minutes before she broke their companionable silence. Spencer smiled; she had given little indication of what she really thought of the house during the viewing other than remarking to Spencer about the high ceilings and general good proportion of the rooms.

"Catherine," Spencer chuckled, " I don't know why you're asking because you've already made up your mind."

He heard her sigh, but he squeezed the hand he was holding as they walked along. Spencer could feel her excitement about it and suspected that her mind had already worked out how the rooms would look.

"It's called trying to get your opinion because I'll not buy it unless you like it, and can imagine yourself living there with me," she honestly explained.

He had assumed all this but this house was a big step for them.

"It needs total renovation…new roof, new plumbing, new heating, re-wiring, but the cellar's dry and the floor boards are in good condition, some of the windows may need replacing," he replied evenly.

"Yeah, I noticed that too, but I'd take all that into the price I'd negotiate. What did you think of the garden?"

"Well, I'd use a flame thrower…" he replied mildly.

"Spencer! Didn't you see all those butterflies and hear that birdsong?" she protested.

"Your wild imagination no doubt can see a paradise beyond the overgrown vegetation, those shrubs haven't been cut in years, probably some Triffids lurking in the jungle,"

"Oh good, you like it then," she asserted as they walked into the apartment building.

"If I'm going to live there, I want to put some of my money into buying it too," Spencer said as they got to their door.

"But then the F.B.I. will want to know why you are spending so much money and I think you ought to keep your apartment and rent it out. Its in a good area and will provide an extra income to save for a rainy day."

"You don't want to officially fill in a contact form," he challenged.

"If I fill in that form they will find out about my writing. I don't use my real name for a reason, Spencer."

"Catherine, eventually Hotch is going to give me a form for you to fill in, the F.B.I. can be discrete… I'm sure you are not the only partner with a secret income, you ought to talk to Hotch about it," Spencer suggested, "I like keeping my private life private, Catherine, but you would have been treated far better than the way you were over Georgia. If you are thinking of making that a family home then you go on my contact list officially."

"I'll buy the house, you can pay for some of the repairs and when it's all ready then we'll talk about the form," she said reaching for a compromise.

"Fine, but this time I'll not live with you in that house without you being vetted officially…. Hotch would have done his own unofficial check so who knows what he has uncovered… and if we decide upon children, then we legalise this partnership," stated Spencer in a quiet determination to lay the ground rules for the next steps in their relationship. It was one of the rare moments when they began to speak of a future, and Spencer wanted the afternoon to provide answers. He hung up his green corded jacket and went into the living room, sweeping up his lute as he went, and sank into a comfortable chair.

Catherine watched him for a few moments from the doorway, so much of their future depended upon what his father would tell him that afternoon. His long delicate fingers plucked the strings as he seemed to wrap himself around the beautiful instrument, it was as if they became a single entity as he began to play Dowland's Fantasie No.1. Catherine loved him beyond anything that words could even begin to express. The gentle lute music seemed to caress their living space; the introspective instrument was the perfect complement to their personal world within these walls.

It was an uneventful and easy journey by the metro to Washington D.C. They had walked together to the Dupont Circle, where he left her at the Phillips Collection to walk a few more minutes to the exclusive address. Spencer Reid was naturally apprehensive but determined not to waste this unexpected window of opportunity. Since parting from Catherine, he had noticed how his gut began to tighten with every step and he tried to practice deep breathing to calm the rising panic; he wanted this meeting to go well. He kept feeling that he should be angry but it was half –hearted, mocking him from a corner of his memory. His abiding feeling was of hope and he was more afraid of that sentiment than any other when it came to his personal life.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Reid," the concierge greeted him as he entered the pleasant foyer, "your father is expecting you, 4th floor and to the right."

"Thank you," he managed to sound quite normal even if his body was trembling inside it's skin. He headed for the elevators towards the back of the spacious foyer.

Spencer entered the elevator with a well-dressed middle-aged Afro American couple. The man was near his own height with a military bearing who didn't even look at the panel of numbers before pressing 5. Spencer assumed the elegant woman with him was his wife. They stepped to the back of the elevator giving Spencer the space to press the 4 button. He glanced up and found that the couple gave him friendly smiles; the elevator began to move silently.

"Forgive me for my curiosity," the woman said, " but you look so very like Dr. Reid…"

Spencer felt an unexpected warmth spread through his body, he smiled, and for the first time as an adult, proudly replied, "I am his son." Spencer Reid was surprised by the feeling that accompanied this automatic response, was it so wrong to want to be known as William Reid's son, his inner self questioned.

The elevator doors softly pinged open before any other words could have been exchanged and Spencer turned to the right. The door was now only a few feet away, he noted the discrete surveillance cameras. He remembered the voice of his father, the previous evening, and the apprehension he had heard in the tone: ' he's as scared as you are' he thought and pressed the door bell.

The door swung wide, filling the artificially lit corridor with true sunlight from a window immediately opposite the doorway. Spencer's eyes settled on the man he'd not seen in 16 years, his mind swiftly processed the detail: they were of a similar height and build, not an ounce of spare flesh on his middle aged frame. The still abundant hair was long for a man of his age but of a darker brown than his own and it was greying at the temples. The skin on the gaunt long face and neck had lines of ageing on its lightly tanned surface, but it was the eyes that held each other transfixed. Identical eyes searched each other: deep brown, haunted eyes that held the secrets of life's learning, of emotional and physical pain, but there was also compassion and sensitivity indicating that the respective owners attempted to make some sense of the troubled world they lived in.

"Spencer," the father broke the silence, "Thank you for coming, it could not have been an easy decision. Please, please come in, let me take your jacket…" and the son entered a bright apartment and was shown into a spacious reception room.

This living room reflected its resident with its understated elegance. Spencer's training noted the details; there was a wall of books, two dark brown leather couches with a marble rectangular topped table between, a walnut dining table and chairs were at the far end near another door which Spencer surmised was the kitchen. There was shelving with photograph frames and objects, some he recognised and memories flooded back with a surprising intensity.

"I have always treasured your little gifts. " the father said softly, following his son's transfixed gaze, "Would you like a drink…tea, coffee?" But Spencer was not listening.

He watched as his son walked towards a shelving unit, tentatively reaching up to touch, with a slender index finger, an obviously crudely made thumb pot. Spencer remembered making this clay pot as a 5 year old and painting it scarlet and gold specially for his father's birthday; those had been happy days. He felt his father beside him, and he turned,

"We had some good times didn't we," Spencer simply stated and William fought back the tears that threatened to flow.

"Yes, we did, what happened was not your fault in any way. You were, and you are still, much loved by me and I'm sure by your Mom."

Spencer nodded, and turned back to the shelving, this time he picked up a silver framed photograph of the younger happier couple with their baby held by the woman and the man proudly standing beside her, with his arm around he waist. An informal snap that captured a moment in a garden on a summer's day.

"I've no photographs, Mum destroyed all the photographs of you after you left,"

"I have a lot, if you would like to see them, perhaps we could look at them and I can tell you about Diana and how we met… would you like that? William tentatively asked.

"Yeah, that would be good, I really just don't know anything about either of you really," replied Spencer and thought how absurd it must sound but life with his mother had not been easy. He remembered how frightened he had been of being taken from her and placed into local authority care; Spencer had coped because he saw it as the best option at that moment.

"Well, before we start would you like a drink?" he asked again, feeling that his son had given him an opening for the afternoon.

Spencer pulled himself away from his memories, and smiled, "Coffee please and can I smell brownies?"

William beamed back, "I still like to do my own cooking and well…I hoped you still liked them," he shyly confessed treading carefully, but neither man had a blueprint to follow for this afternoon.

"Yeah, I've got a sweet tooth, Catherine says its unfair because I can eat anything and not put on weight,"

"Ah, Catherine?"

"She's why I'm here, she was with me when I rang…I need to know more about Mom because I want a future with Catherine…"Spencer had not intended to mention her so soon but his emotions were too near the surface. Spencer's love for Catherine was more central to his life than he liked to admit even to himself.

"I'm glad you have someone; love is a complex emotion and you may now have the experience to understand something of the life your parents had. I'll get the coffee and cake...browse all you like, just ignore the dust. I don't have the domestic cleaning service offered here…I like to have this as my private world…only dust the beginning of every month."

Spencer smiled at the admission of bachelor living. He had noticed the dust; it had reassured him when he felt the thin layer of dust on the childish pot and seen the telltale clean print of where the photograph had stood when he had lifted it from its place. William Reid had not just put things on display for his benefit they were genuinely part of his normal world here in this bright room. It was such a contrast to his mother's world, she had liked the curtains drawn, the blinds down then no one could see in and the threatening world was shut out. For the young Spencer, it was at times a suffocating twilight world while he longed to breathe and experience the fresh bright world beyond.

The younger man explored the room further, and went back to the shelving and looked at the other photographs there, to his surprise there were even pictures of his 4 degree ceremonies. A large smooth pebble was being used as a paperweight on the writing desk by one of the three windows. He remembered finding that pebble as an eight year old, he thought the delicate light brown mottled colours where like the different tones of the desert. He rolled the pebble once more in his hands and marvelled again at its smoothness and the memory relived the joy of sharing the find with his father, who said it would make a fine paperweight. Typical of the generous spirit of the child, he gave it to his Dad who accepted saying that he would always have a use for it in his life.

William Reid busied himself in the kitchen, while strong Costa Rican coffee filtered, he arranged a tray with chunky large coffee cups and a matching milk jug. He put the chocolate brownies on a large plate, found the muscavado sugar and two small side plates. Although William enjoyed cooking, he rarely entertained but he did like to make an effort when he did have guests. The older man still could not believe that his son was in the next room nor how alike they looked. Despite the photographs he had collected over the years, the reality was still disconcerting. He only hoped that his son could find contentment and would not make the mistakes that he had done in his life. William poured the coffee into the generous cups and took the tray to the living room.

"I'll go and get some of my photo albums. I had my own copies of many of the photographs because I always had some with me on my travels, even before I left," William said as he put down the tray, " Help yourself," The father entered the hallway and disappeared but Spencer was too busy rediscovering the taste of his father's excellent cooking.

A few minutes later, William returned carrying several large albums, which he put down on the end of the couch before sitting down himself next to Spencer.

"They still taste as good as I remember," the son said and for the first time grinned. William felt his heart constrict, he never thought he would see that open joy again in his son's face in his lifetime. His own memories of the guilt of leaving rose again, but he managed to smile at Spencer's capacity to find pleasure in the simple things of life.

William took a drink of his coffee, he was thankful that his hand did not shake with the nerves that were plaguing his inner body.

"You still play your violin," Spencer said nodding towards the instrument lying on the dresser.

"Oh, yes, it helps me to think and unwind at the end of the day," the older man confided, "Do you still play yours?"

"No, Mum smashed it soon after you left," he replied with a hint of regret, "But I then took up the lute, I like playing Dowland and Bach," he added with a lighter tone.

"Oh God, I'm sorry…"

"It's OK, we can't go backwards," Spencer quickly re-assured, not wishing to destroy this fragile moment with his father, " I'm an adult now, we have to fill in the gaps but we have to accept each other as we are today," Spencer quietly stated.

William nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment but thought his child was wiser than his young years. He drank a little more coffee to help to compose him self enough to look at the photographs.

"Well, lets see, I have some photos of when I first met your Mom," the older man finally said reaching for the first album and resting it between them.

"Oh, she was beautiful," said Spencer in awe of the fragile, slender beauty that smiled out from the pages. Diana had been very photogenic with her pale long blond wavy hair, stunning cornflower blue eyes and pale flawless skin.

"Oh, she was, totally stunning, and she knew it. I'm sorry Spencer, but you said you wanted to know," William scrutinised he son's face, searching for any sign that he wanted to step back from this journey they were about to embark upon, "Do you really want to know the truth of our life together?"

Spencer did not flinch from the gaze, "Yes, I can't go forward without filling in these gaps," he replied seriously.

"Diana was 18 when we first met, I was 20 and had just started at Berkeley on my doctorate in pure mathematics…I was instantly attracted to her, it was not just the beauty but the vivacious personality…she could light up any room she entered. It got her a lot of attention but there was a lot of freedom in those days…you know, 'flower power, free love' and Berkeley had a drug scene like most campuses. Diana was a party girl and experimented with whatever was on offer. I don't want to sound self righteous but I've never been into drugs, and that includes alcohol, I like to have control over what I'm doing."

"But you went out with her," Spencer probed.

"I was attracted like a moth to a flame. She was great company, she used to call me 'Mr. Killjoy' when I wouldn't join in or tried to get her to stop. Later I was 'Mr. Reliable' when I spent the inheritance from my grandfather on re-hab; I took her 4 times to Mexico. I thought taking her out of the country would help and that way it might not show up on records here when she tried to get employment. People were ashamed of addiction then, my parents were appalled and didn't want me to have anything to do with a drug addict. Things became strained when they found out I was still seeing her and they disowned me because I was spending my inheritance on her. That's why you've never met any of my family, I was given an ultimatum, and chose your Mom."

Spencer turned the pages and saw an array of pictures, some clearly showing signs that indicated addition, "What did she take?" Spencer numbly asked.

"It started after her parents died in a plane crash, she had just started Berkeley and I think she did it initially because of the emotional pain of their sudden deaths…she didn't like flying after that,"

"She still doesn't," interjected Spencer, remembering how she had complained to him because he had her flown to the safety of Quantico during the Randall Garner case.

"She would try anything; at first it was cannabis, then there was the LSD, she got into a crowd using coke but I don't think she took heroin. But the problem was the students were experimenting with their own mixes…it's a wonder any of them completed their degrees…Well some didn't but somehow Diana's brilliance got her accepted for a doctorate. It was only actually getting her away to Italy, where she did some research in Florence one Summer, that I really succeeded to break the hold the Berkeley friends had on her."

"Do you think this all had something to do with her schizophrenia?" Spencer finally asked one of the questions that he needed clarification on.

"I only know what her half sister told me… Your Aunt Margaret did not want anything to do with us because she had not approved of her father's second marriage, which produced Diana. I went to her after she attempted suicide when you were about 2,"

"Suicide!" Spencer was shocked, he didn't know about this.

"Diana's doctors needed to know if there was a family history of mental illness. I found that her mother's family were a healthy bunch, and usually long livers but her brothers had been killed in the war. Her parents were tragically killed in a car crash so grandparents brought up your maternal grandmother. Margaret told me that, as far as she knew, there was no history of mental illness in her father's family but she, a doctor herself, suggested that Diana's drug problems indicated her instability. She told me that she knew about what she got up to at Berkeley because the family lawyer was worried about how she was spending her inheritance like water. She had hired a private detective to find out what she was doing and knew about my attempts to get her clean. Margaret thought me a fool for staying with her so long. I have since talked to other experts in this field and they believe that the experimenting she did as a student could have been the trigger."

Spencer felt that his father was being totally honest with him. The profiler had been carefully watching for any indication of lying, but he knew that this conversation was as painful for the older man as it was for him self to hear.

"So she showed the first signs when I was 2?" Spencer prompted as they had now progressed to a second volume of photographs that showed proud parents with their new born and then charted his childhood. All indicated a happy life; he seemed to always have a broad grin in these pictures, as did his parents. He distantly thought how like the young William he now looked and wondered if his mother saw this too and perhaps found it a little confusing at times.

William sighed and was silent for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts.

"I was working for a government agency by the time you were born. I can't go into details even now, Spencer, but I am a cryptographer it's a highly prized gift but rare. The pay was, and still is, exceptionally good but it does not really compensate for the personal sacrifices you sometimes have to make. People do keep families together but ours broke under the strain of Diana's instability and the absences that my job required. You were a much wanted baby, your Mom and I were delighted with your birth and I was, and still am, very proud of you. I have never doubted Diana's love for you but I came home one day to find her high on cannabis. I was furious and we had a flaming row. You started crying and she screamed at me to take you away because she was exhausted with trying to cope with you and the work she had to prepare for her students. I put you in the car and drove to a colleague's home a few miles away. They agreed to look after you for a few days because I lied to them, saying that Diana was feeling utterly exhausted after a flu type virus.

I drove back home and found that she was taking paracetamol, fortunately she was still conscious and I managed to make her sick, I had to call the ambulance. She kept telling me all the way to the hospital that she loved you really and never wanted to send you away, but the voices were beginning to get a bit too loud in her head. The paramedics told the doctors who diagnosed a psychotic break. I don't know how long she had been hearing the voices because I had been very busy travelling all over the world with my work. If your Mom seemed a bit wrapped up in her work at times I didn't worry, you were at a college creche when she was working. I usually cooked when home and Diana did buy good meals to eat at home when I was away."

The bits were beginning to come together for Spencer. Here was a tragic story of events that his father could not control, who despite his love for his wife, she had quite probably brought about her mental illness with her wild student days. His father continued retelling the events that lead up to him leaving.

" The doctors kept an eye on her, a case worker was assigned because of you. You were identified as intellectually gifted but the educational thinking at the time was to keep you in as normal environment as possible… So you went to the local school and you don't need reminding of that. Things were fine if Diana took her medicine but there were times when she stubbornly refused, then everyday things would be neglected. She neglected to look after herself but you seemed to cope, keeping your own life ordered. You would turn up for school, they said they had no idea what was going on because you never let on something was wrong."

Spencer looked at the photographs taken in his tenth year while his father spoke; a long-haired boy stared back at the camera from behind spectacles. This child seemed to be less carefree, the smile was less open; the eyes looked warily out at the world. Then there was the last picture he remembered being taken with his father. They had gone out riding, his Dad had taught him to ride and it was still a pleasure he shared with Catherine. They had gone out with a group of others from the stables and one of them had snapped this picture of a father and son riding their favourite mounts; William on the chestnut, Jasper and he on the dappled grey, Earl. It had been a very happy day together but when they had got home, his Dad had received a phone call and he had suddenly left. The next day his Mom began to slip into one of her times of dislocation from reality. For a few days Spencer had coped, but then he had called in the doctor. Suddenly people were trying to get his Mom to take the medicine, which she was refusing, and getting angry at their insistence. Going to school was better than being at home when his mother was like this, so Spencer clung to his routine and prayed that his father would return.

"Things in the Middle East were beginning to bubble up and we had lost some good people in a crash, it was probably sabotage, and codes needed to be changed because we feared an infiltration in the Pentagon. National Security took precedence over my family. When I did get home for a few hours, I couldn't cope with the situation there and all the demands of the job where the lives of thousands depended on my skills. Diana begged me to take you, but I remembered the last time she had said that she attempted to kill herself. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay with me, even if I took you, and you would have been sent to a boarding school. My own experiences of such a school clouded my judgement because I had hated my school days. Then I thought about how you would blame yourself if you heard your Mom had killed herself…Well, you know what I did, I packed my bags and left…It has haunted me everyday since…I reasoned going back to see you would make things harder for you. But I've kept tract of you, got people to attend your graduations for me. I couldn't risk going, Diana might have made a scene," William managed to say, but the emotion took over and the tears began to fall as he sat not noticing Spencer beside him.

Spencer placed the album he had been viewing on the coffee table. He felt totally drained by the events of the past hour or so but he now had answers only an adult could understand. The impossible demands of his father's job alongside his mother's mental health had destroyed his parents' marriage. There was no other woman, no indication of another in his father's life even now, he seemed still trapped in his impossible love for a sick woman and haunted by the pain he had inflicted upon his child. He remembered a conversation, a year ago on a plane, when his mentor had told him not to make the mistake he had by letting the job destroy the relationship he had with his soul mate. Spencer was determined not to make such a mistake with his Catherine, but first he had to reach out and give his father some hope. He could not lash out at him, a younger, less experienced Spencer might have been tempted. However, Spencer had witnessed much in his work and he saw that his father was not an intentionally cruel, nor heartless, man, just one caught up in an impossible decision.

Spencer reached across to pull his father towards him, at first their was resistance from the older man but the younger said what was in his heart, "I've missed you Dad,"

The two men clung together while the years of loneliness and guilt were released with the tears, and the years melted away revealing the strong bond of love between them. William had not expected to find such compassion in his son, there was a new path to explore, perhaps they would be able to occasionally meet for a meal. Whatever, the outcome of this afternoon, William Reid treasured this moment of utter vulnerability the two men dared to share with each other.

It was some minutes before the two men could compose themselves, the strong embrace gave each other more strength and healing than any words. Sensitive to each other, they sensed the moment to part quite naturally. They sat staring at each other, both needing to blow noses, wipe eyes and generally try and steady themselves after such an emotional onslaught.

William broke the silence, "Well, I think I could do with some more coffee,"

"Yeah, good job we met here I'm normally not such a demonstrative person. Well, I am with Catherine…but that's in private," Spencer admitted.

"Well, I'm the cool headed one at work, they'd not believe I could cry," William rose picking up the cups, "Is there anything else you would like to know?" he invited.

Spencer followed him to the kitchen, and found himself talking about Catherine and her family and the team he worked with. The conversation followed with a new ease and energy as the two men picked up the threads of a long dormant connection. The time passed quickly and suddenly Spencer realised he had promised to meet up with Catherine at 5 p.m., but he also wanted to reach out to his father as a son and share his happiness.

"I've got to go and meet Catherine…I left her at the Phillips Collection. I'd like you to meet her, she'd love to see the photographs one day," he said. The father could not mistake the hope in the younger man's voice.

"I'd like that too, Spencer, perhaps we could..." began William and then the solution was before him, "Why don't we have dinner together here, I'm sure I've got enough ingredients for spaghetti bolognese, then you can show her…Go and get her, we might not have another weekend free for weeks"

Spencer grinned, "Great, I'm sure she'll agree…"

Suddenly his son was gone, and the apartment seemed unusually empty. William went to the phone,

"Clifford, its Dr. Reid, my son will be returning shortly with his girl friend. Don't worry, Dr. Catherine Fox is already known to security."

"Thank you, Sir, I will log it in when they arrive," the concierge replied.

Catherine's heart leapt when she saw Spencer hurrying towards her; it was unusual for him to be late. She knew that the meeting had gone well, he just seemed to bounce along with a lightness of spirit that had been rarely seen since Georgia. He spontaneously hugged her in the street; she laughed capturing the joy of this moment with her usually less publicly demonstrative lover.

"Dad wants to meet you, he's suggested making spaghetti bolognese for us while I show you some photos of me as a child and" he stopped and looked into her steady grey twinkling eyes, "Oh God Catherine, Mom really was an addict. I think I can believe in myself for the first time as an adult, I'll tell you some of it as we go along," he said, turning once more towards his father's apartment.

William Reid's doorbell sounded for the second time that day and he was totally taken aback by the appearance of Catherine. He had not expected his son's partner to be the total opposite of Diana: the small pocket Venus, the round open face with large dark grey eyes, the short straight fine hair with its dark auburn tinge that was cut in an unfussy classic 'bob'. She was no fragile beauty, and he immediately thought of the description of Miss Violet Hunter from the Sherlock Holmes story, 'Copper Beeches': 'She was plainly, but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg'. But it was the warmth and rock steadiness that William sensed that made him truly appreciate his son's choice.

The evening went surprisingly well, the father enjoyed cooking the simple meal and sharing this precious time with these young people. He was still reeling inside from the fact that Spencer had wanted him to especially meet his Catherine. William felt that the evening only consolidated his good first impression of her. They wanted to keep this contact and William promised to call when he got back from his next trip in two weeks time. Catherine was adamant that William was to come and taste her cooking, even if Spencer disappeared on the day because she and Will, as he asked her to call him, had common interests in art and music.

There was only one jarring note to the evening. While Catherine went to the bathroom before leaving, William asked, "Does Diana know about Catherine?"

"No, and I have no intention of telling her. I only told Mom once about a girlfriend, I was 19. It was the first relationship that lasted a few weeks," Spencer shyly confessed, "I mentioned Holly to Mom and she changed suddenly becoming very irritated and possessive. The staff intervened when she started shouting that I wasn't allowed to see a woman without her permission." Spencer shuddered, not so much because of this memory, but it reminded him that his secrecy over Catherine had meant that she had not come to the attention of Randall Garner.

"You are wise not to tell her, no one would be good enough for you as far as she is concerned," William counselled.

"Do you like Catherine?" Spencer suddenly asked, searching his father's face for approval.

"Spencer, you are a very lucky man to have Catherine's love, just don't screw up!" he said sternly and then burst out laughing, releasing any remnants of tension from the afternoon meeting, "I think she's strong enough to cope with your work," he added, genuinely touched that Spencer would value his opinion after all these years.

Both grinned at each other, and then Catherine was there ready to go and catch the metro home.

As the young couple made their way back, hand in hand, Spencer felt a new contentment settle within him. The future now held less fear and he was determined to not be broken by the PTSD but to become the perceptive profiler Gideon believed was his destiny.


	6. Chapter 6

Conversations 6: Lunch with the Hotchners By Helena Fallon 

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended; I've just borrowed some characters to play with a few of mine.

Catherine sat in the passenger seat of Spencer's car feeling quite excited about meeting the Hotchners. She had liked Gideon when she met him at the hospital in Georgia, he had been warm and informative about what had happened to Spencer and had stressed that with her help he would come through the experience. Gideon had not tried to give false assurances but truthfully told her briefly what to expect in the weeks to come. She had been grateful for his belief in her ability to cope because his words had helped her on those occasions that she had felt out of her depth.

Spencer had said that the Hotchners' had noticed them several times but had respected their privacy. She liked that being herself a person who had, due to her abilities, been usually on the outside looking in. Her Mom and Aunties had affectionately called her the 'wallflower', but it gave her time to weigh up a situation before joining in if she felt comfortable. She should be feeling nervous about meeting Spencer's boss and his wife but she'd built up a picture of them already from the things Spencer had told her.

She knew that Spencer had a great deal of respect for Hotch; it was a different relationship to the one he had with Gideon. Gideon was the mentor, who in the early years had been a father figure, but had been stepping back to guide her lover into a greater self-confidence in his own abilities in dealing with others. Hotch was very much a man Spencer now looked up to as a leader and role model. Spencer had told her that the Hotchners' seemed to have a happy marriage, despite the demands of the job. He tried to copy Hotch's way of getting as much paper work done on the plane, or sleeping, so he could enjoy his off duty time. He was surprised that the others had not noticed how he now rarely played cards and generally chatted less on the plane home since knowing her.

"Catherine!" Spencer's voice sounded exasperated as she suddenly realised he was asking for attention.

"Sorry, I was thinking, err… was there something?"

"Will you keep a look out for the turning into Linden Lane?"

"Yeah, sure, I was thinking about the Hotchners," said Catherine sheepishly, she knew Spencer hated having to navigate and drive. He was such a careful driver and always studied the map before driving anywhere new, however, he still liked someone to navigate even if the map was imprinted upon his brain. Catherine smiled, 'even we geniuses have our little foibles' she said to herself.

"What?" Spencer enquired; his radar seemed particularly tuned into Catherine at that moment.

"Nothing, just thinking that it was nice of the Hotchners to want to meet me," replied Catherine innocently.

"I think Hotch is making a special effort for us. He still feels he failed to protect me in Georgia. I don't blame anyone; JJ and I made a decision and no one could have foreseen the events that were to follow. That's just the unpredictable way life is sometimes."

"Yeah, it'd be pretty boring if we knew what was going to happen round every corner. It's next right," Catherine instructed.

They turned into a pleasant broad tree-lined avenue in an affluent area; it was obviously far from being what she would have called a lane. The houses all looked well maintained and spacious, she noticed a number of bicycles being ridden by their young owners. Spencer had consciously slowed down to accommodate these youngsters. There were a few children playing together; a couple dressed as pirates were giving instructions to playmates. Suddenly, Spencer made a left turn into a driveway and stopped before the wide garage doors. Catherine gathered herself together, and got out. She then opened the back door on her side to reach on to the back seat to pick up the flowers.

"Spencer, you …" began a man's voice.

"Daddy fowers…" a bright eyed toddler had stormed past and stood before Catherine holding up his arms in delight at the large bunch of colour she was holding.

"Hello!" Catherine beamed, "You must be Jack,"

Jack's face shone with wonder, and nodded.

"The pretty flowers are for Mommy, " Catherine said holding her hand out to Jack who took it happily.

"Mommy in house…" and began to lead the way, with Catherine in tow.

"Can I call you Hotch?" asked the smiling Catherine, as she was lead past the man of the house.

"Of course…" replied Hotch, feeling he'd lost control of the situation already.

Spencer looked up at Hotch, he grinned feeling totally relaxed with his boss, "Told you she was a child magnet," as Hotch seemed to be recovering from having his greeting totally sabotaged by his toddler. "Jack's got some good language skills coming along," added Spencer as he followed Hotch into the house,

"By leaps and bounds, he's got new words every time I see him and he understands so much more. He's a lot more interesting now,"

"Yeah, but now it's the tantrums because they can't express what they want…"

"Since when did you become the child psychologist?" Hotch teased.

"Since the girl friend introduced me to her brother's family…Honestly Hotch, never been so scared as when she put her new nephew in my arms…"

"Well, I had to make sure you could cope with babies…I do a lot of baby sitting for Marcus and MaryAnne" interjected Catherine who had been getting acquainted with Hayley.

Hayley and Hotch exchanged surprised looks.

"Well as you're still together I take it he passed the test," added an amused Hotch. He felt totally relaxed by this woman he now had in his home. He and Hayley had seen her at a distance, and Hotch had noted how natural they seemed together. Gideon had said she was nice and dependable but Catherine was more than that, she was warm and had an ability to put people at ease. This woman felt right for Spencer, who seemed more confident in her presence. Hotch liked this young man who was now in his home and wondered if he was too diffident at work because of the other forceful personalities on the team.

While the women and Jack wondered off towards the kitchen to find vases for the flowers, Hotch led the way into the less formal den.

"Can I get you a drink?" Hotch offered.

"No thanks, I'm fine. Wow you have a lovely garden," said Spencer, captivated by the view from the expanse of window. The two men stood side by side gazing out on to the garden.

"Hayley's efforts really, but its great for Jack to run around in."

"Catherine's found a house with a garden, it's a jungle at the moment but I'm sure she'll tell you about her plans,"

"A house…." Hotch's eyes teased, "don't tell me its got potential,"

"Right on target!" grinned Spencer, "Are they all the same?" he asked the experienced male.

"I recognised the nesting look," Hotch admitted, and gestured towards a comfortable looking black leather couch.

"Well I told Catherine that I'm not living with her in the house unless she's on the official contact list," Spencer said in a tone of quiet determination that Hotch had come to recognise over the years.

"How did she take that?"

"Said we'd discuss it again once the place was renovated,"

"It's in that bad a state?"

"It'll keep her out of mischief for a few months if they accept her offer,"

"Why is she so apprehensive about an official vetting?" asked Hotch. He really was quite puzzled by her reluctance not to be officially named on his forms.

"Its her second income… doesn't want it known about,"replied Spencer.

"Do you want me to re-assure her?"

The younger man gave him a beautiful smile, the sheer openness of it reminded Hotch of the pre-Georgia days. He knew that Catherine was special enough to still produce these flashes of the less traumatised Reid. Aaron Hotchner did not quite understand her reluctance but then she was a country girl compared with the more worldly city born partners; perhaps she was just unsure of the F.B.I.'s procedures.

"You seem very relaxed today, Spencer, it's really good to see you like this. You know it concerns me that we don't normally get a chance to discuss things outside the issues of a case," Hotch openly admitted, hoping that his candour would be reciprocated.

"No, we don't, do we. I guess its because we both try to keep our private lives from being contaminated by the work and I do try to have a life outside work. I mean …I do appreciate the friendship of the team but I do like to get away from it," said Spencer feeling that he'd not expressed himself very well.

"Yeah, I do know what you mean. If you see colleagues on a regular basis outside of work it becomes harder to separate work and pleasure," said the older man finding Reid far easier to talk to than he imagined.

"So did you go and see this house yesterday?"

"Catherine's had her eye on it for weeks but she arranged a viewing yesterday morning because the price had dropped to her liking," he said quietly, "In the afternoon, I went to see my father," he continued in a totally understated way that Hotch wondered if he'd heard correctly.

"You saw your father?" Hotch couldn't help himself repeating. It was only a couple of days ago that Gideon had told him about William Reid. Hotch was not quite sure how to proceed knowing that the man had left when Spencer was 10.

"Yes, he'd contacted Gideon because he wanted to know that I was all right after being kidnapped. Dad gave Gideon a contact number if I wanted to speak to him," Hotch nodded his encouragement for Reid to continue.

"When I got home I told Catherine and she encouraged me to call him and I went to his apartment yesterday afternoon," the young man said softly. He looked earnestly into Hotch's eyes, wanting him to understand the deep need he had to see his a father after all the years. Spencer was sure that the little the team knew about his life, the part where his father had left him with a mentally sick mother, had horrified them.

"I needed to know why and I knew so little about my Mom's family and how they had met…"

"Of course you needed answers, did you get them?" Hotch gently asked.

"Yeah, I learnt that my Mom had been into drugs as a student but Dad had stood by her and paid for rehab several times to the point that his family disowned him…." Spencer proceeded to tell his boss of the events of the previous day and how good it felt to see his Dad again.

Hotch listened carefully observing, the profiler in him rarely off duty. The older man felt that this meeting had been totally beneficial and probably had happened at the right time in Spencer's life.

"That's wonderful news, Spencer. It must be a great weight off you knowing about your Mom,"

"God, Hotch, it feels like I'm free from all these years of watching my Mom decline and fearing I was going to start showing the symptoms at any time…you have no idea how that has affected my relationships. You know I have had the occasional girlfriend but they usually didn't last once they found out about Mom. Sometimes it wasn't the girl but their family's," Spencer confessed.

"I'm sorry," said Hotch but the words seemed inadequate to soothe the pain this sensitive young man had experienced in his early relationships, " but then you met Catherine," he prompted on a brighter note.

"Well, Catherine is so very special," Spencer beamed a radiant smile, "I never knew just how much a person could mean to my everyday happiness. I guess that is what love is about; all the little things that we take for granted which just become invisibly woven into the fabric of our lives."

"She has been with you all the way over the PTSD, she's one of life's treasures and you don't want to loose this priceless gem," Hotch counselled.

"No, I don't want to jeopardise this relationship. I'm trying to keep a balance with the demands of the job and keeping a life with Catherine," he acknowledged, "I feel more confident about the future after yesterday. I mean, Dad and I can't go backwards but we can build on what we have as adults. Its like I've found the missing pieces of the jigsaw of my early life. It's a wonderful feeling; I can finally breathe deeply of life for the first time and dream of a future with Catherine."

"That's good, Spencer, after all you've been through you deserve some happiness. I remember when I came to realise what my breaking point was, it made me appreciate the life I had with Hayley and it brought us even closer. It made us both want a family but then Hayley had several miscarriages so Jack is very precious to us." Hotch quietly shared.

"I didn't realise…"Spencer softly said, the enormity of those few words were not lost on Reid who had shared the happiness of Catherine's extended family.

"Why should you, we were moved around a lot in those days, this Quantico position as been the longest placement," Hotch said, remembering it was the first house they had bought on Hayley's insistence because she wanted a garden for children.

"I'm not ready to tell the team about Catherine," Spencer suddenly confided, "its been bad enough having to put up with their pitying looks and fumbled approaches….Sorry, that must sound totally selfish and insensitive of me…"

"No, it doesn't…just because you work with people it doesn't always mean they are the best people to confide in…" Hotch soothed, realising as the minutes passed on how alike in many ways the team's genius was to himself when he was younger.

"But you do have someone who will listen?" Hotch gently probed, he felt guilty himself for not taking this step sooner.

"I was given a choice of psych's after the initial discharge, although Max came to assess me while I was still in hospital in Georgia," he said softly, sinking into the memory of those days of the physical pain and the withdrawal of the drugs. Catherine had been steadfastly with him despite his attempts to push her away in his shame of being seen as weak. It was only now, after months of counselling, that he was really understanding what all the medical staff had been telling him: he was very strong to have survived.

"I found I was more comfortable talking with Arthur, do you know him?"

"Yes, the small bearded bear of a man, got a very deep voice…I've had him for a few psych assessments…" Hotch replied remembering the quiet unassuming middle aged man.

"Yes, in some ways he reminded me of Gideon before his depressive break," said Spencer, his voice had become very soft, "Gideon's not coping very well is he?"

Hotch felt the unexpected question tear through this moment that he thought was about getting Spencer to trust him more. Hotch looked up into deep brown knowing eyes and he felt sick as his inner steadiness stumbled. How long had Reid suspected the very doubts that he was having over his friend?

He couldn't reply but managed a slight shake of the head in acknowledgement of the young man's observations. Reid was silent; judging that Hotch needed time to adjust to where he had taken the conversation.

"How long have you been having your doubts?" Hotch finally managed.

"It was after the Garner case, the sanctity of his cabin had been destroyed and in a way it was my fault,"

"No, " Hotch interjected, "You wrote things quite innocently to your Mom, none of us blame you in any way," he re-assured.

"Nevertheless, Gideon began to withdraw even more into himself after that case. I have surmised that his relationship with Jane hasn't lasted…"

"No, I don't think the severed head helped them…" Hotch ruefully added.

"And then there was Elle," Spencer continued, and Hotch felt his stomach lurch again; he still felt guilty over Elle.

"I knew something was wrong, I couldn't be sure if Gideon had picked up on it but I did try…I went to see her in her hotel room," Hotch stared at Reid seeing him in a new light. The youngest team member had reached out compassionately to a woman much older and far more battled scarred than Reid had been at that time.

"What happened?" he managed to ask although his mouth seemed suddenly dry and not wanting to speak.

"She didn't want to confide in me…I was too young, just a kid …what would I know or understand? I was the wrong person…I didn't have the gravitas of you or Gideon. It's a problem with the team; they see me as the kid because they can't really cope with my intelligence nor what has happened to me recently."

Hotch listened intently, this was the real Spencer Reid and wondered just how lonely he felt at times within the team. For all his youth, Reid was not a kid and had never had a normal upbringing and certainly had to take on adult responsibilities far too early. However, it was his big puppy dog eyes and youthful awkwardness that was endearing to those who knew him but it did mask a razor sharp mind with a compassion far beyond his 26 years.

"We failed to pick up on Elle, I blame myself as the leader of the unit: the buck stops with me."

"Not entirely, Gideon, as a senior agent and psychologist is slipping because he's afraid of getting too close to us having lost one team in that bombing. He still seems to get the job done. He throws himself wholeheartedly into the actual cases we have to compensate for not keeping an eye on the team dynamics. I suspect if things push him too far again, or he begins to doubt himself, then he'll take early retirement,"

"That's a damn good assessment of your mentor, so you think we have failed you too?" asked Hotch wanting to face the reply now he had the young man talking on such a deep level and revealing his considerable abilities.

"I guess I would have liked to feel that Gideon had been at my back more. But then a lot has happened to him since he first took me under his wing. Gideon has all that experience of PTSD himself yet he didn't reach out to me until I failed to answer my phone to go with Emily and Morgan."

"He couldn't ignore that. I failed to monitor you thinking that Gideon was keeping an eye because you were his protégé…he persuaded the Director to bend the rules so he could train you for the BAU," Hotch confessed feeling very guilty. This young agent had been silently screaming for help while the two senior agents, who should have heard him, ignored all the signals he was sending out.

"I'm sorry, I should have intervened sooner, but Gideon kept saying you needed space to find your feet again and everyone was re-adjusting to the events of the Hankel case."

"I wasn't totally on my own, I have Catherine, and Marcus her brother, we get on really well and I trust him and his wife, MaryAnne. Then there were my sessions with Arthur and seeing Ethan in New Orleans was good…it helped me realise that I wanted to stay in the unit," replied Spencer, and Hotch began to get a picture of the significant people who belonged to the very private world of the genius.

"I told Morgan on Friday, before I left, that I wanted the team to stop worrying about me and pay more attention to the cases. I'm coming through this but I am coming out the other end changed,"

Spencer admitted.

"Do you regret the changes?"

"No, I think I'm beginning to understand my own inner strengths more and learning that emotions have to be confronted and that they don't always respond to reason," said the young man with a wry smile, "Dad and I had a good cry yesterday afternoon; it was beneficial to both of us."

Hotch sat back into the large comfortable leather couch, Spencer Reid was an exceptional man and he didn't want to loose him off the team.

"The team will just have to accept the changes Spencer. What you faced is not an everyday occurrence even for a F.B.I. agent. JJ has come through it a lot stronger too. We will be all right but we will all have to adjust, it's the nature of traumatic events." Hotch re-assured.

"Morgan still sees me as the little innocent kid,"

"How do you see him?" Hotch asked hoping for another straight reply.

"Morgan reminds me of my tormentors at school and in my early years at college. On the one hand he likes to think he offers friendship but he can also be teasing. I'm too sensitive towards that because I was teased so badly when younger, that it crossed the line and became another form of bullying. He is a good agent and can be relied upon, in fact I trust the whole team on the job, but off duty I want a distance. Morgan doesn't trust people. He puts on a confident air, the man about town, a ladies man but he fears commitment. Basically, he still blames himself for the grooming he experienced as a teenager; to compensate he works out to boost his masculine image, plays the field with women and he deliberately chooses women who want no commitment but he blames it on the job. He is terrified of his sensitive side and again very rarely shows this, in case someone takes advantage. I doubt he would be able to cope with Catherine because she's a plain speaking woman who would tell him very quickly if she didn't like his behaviour towards me."

"Have you told her?" asked Hotch who had more than once pulled Morgan aside to say that his behaviour was uncalled for.

"She thinks he's immature and her brothers would not have put up with some of his antics,"

Hotch nodded, JJ usually smoothed such instances and she still gravitated towards Spencer on the plane or in the SUV. They were the two most obvious sensitives and often would be seen sitting together in companionable silence.

"Garcia's a good friend…crazy but well meaning, she cares a lot about Morgan and he seems to trust her. Emily seems to be working well with him," said Spencer thoughtfully as he gazed out of the big picture window.

"Do you like Emily?" Hotch tentatively asked. He really hoped that Spencer would give an opinion about the team's newest member. He sometimes wondered if he would ever get over her unexpected arrival.

"I don't dislike but I don't know her. She's a bit of a mystery. I think she has had very demanding parents and still feels that she is trying to prove herself to them. Emily is very intelligent but like very intelligent women, plays this down because men usually can't cope with women more intelligent than themselves. We have very delicate egos," Spencer said chuckling.

"Well you're a genius, you don't count," countered Hotch defending his sex.

"Catherine is a genius, she plays down her intelligence but she will use it if she feels someone needs an over inflated ego busted!"

"Mmm…I shall file away the warning," Hotch grinned.

"Emily was just dropped on us," Spencer suddenly continued in a serious vein, "I don't understand the politics but I wonder who pulled the strings. She has worked extremely hard to get accepted by the team. I think she was genuinely worried about me when I first returned, but I pushed her away in a very snappy mood…she was the wrong person at the wrong time," he said apologetically remembering the incident.

"PTSD can make us very touchy, especially when we first return back on the job. We are trying to prove to ourselves, and colleagues, that we can still do the job. Apparently I was near impossible the first time I experienced it…Hayley thought the guys would cold shower me to cool me down; I was so fired up to prove I could still handle things."

The two men studied each other, both knowing that the job had brought them to their limits but they still wanted to be part of the team.

"Thank you," Spencer broke the silence, "I appreciate what you are doing today. I want the stability of a home to come back to like you have…I keep telling myself that this sense of normality can be achieved despite the demands of the job."

"You're very welcome, Spencer, and from what you've said Catherine is trying to carve out that little haven of normality for you. She seems to be getting on well with Hayley from the laughter that keeps filtering through,"

They smiled wondering what the women were plotting while they seemed to have been very serious.

"Come on, Catherine and Jack have laid the table and….you two haven't been talking work have you?" Hayley eyed the pair suspiciously. They both tried to look innocent but she looked hard at her husband. Spencer thought that his boss would have some explaining to do later.

Lunch was a very pleasant vegetable lasagne and salad with apple pie and ice cream to follow. Hayley had taken Hotch's advice and decided on a vegetarian dish because her husband had noticed that Spencer often ordered vegetarian options when on the road. Talk seemed to centre on the house, which Hotch was genuinely interested in and a good way to get Catherine to relax with him. The more he spoke with her the more he felt she was the partner the youngest team member needed. Spencer and Jack seemed to be getting on well, although seated in his high chair next to Hayley, Spencer deliberately engaged with him. Hayley was fascinated by this transformation in the young man who had seemed terrified of Jack when she had first brought him into the office.

After lunch, Jack was too excited to have his normal rest.

"He's going to get grumpy and then suddenly collapse with exhaustion," said Hayley apologetically.

"Yeah, that's all right, we're use to this. We'll take him out in the garden and let him run around a bit that will help to tire him," Spencer said, "Coming Jack," he offered his hand.

"Man play ball," Jack enthusiastically tugged at the hand towards the french windows and the garden beyond.

"I like ball," Spencer said simply, letting the toddler confidently lead the way.

Catherine laughed at the bemused parents, "I told you, I've tested him out on my brother's children,"

"I'll go and make some coffee," Hayley said, "why don't you go and enjoy the garden and I'll bring it out when it's ready."

Hotch lead the way to a shaded area with a table and chairs. They watched Jack and Spencer kick and chase after a large orange sponge ball, it was a happy scene; Jack was giggling away with his new playmate.

"You're right, he's good at that," said Hotch, "You want children don't you."

Catherine appreciated the direct approach, "Yes," she simply said, "Even more so since he was hurt, it made me realise that I would have nothing of what we are together without a child… I had a happy childhood and was the youngest."

Hotch nodded his understanding, he and Hayley had come to a similar conclusion in their own relationship. There was nothing like staring your own death in the face to make you realise how fragile life was.

"The job is a bitch, but it is rewarding and I do enjoy it." Hotch asserted.

"So does Spencer and he knows my maternal side. I think I cope quite well keeping my own career going alongside his work."

"I'm not criticising you in any way," Hotch suddenly interrupted, "in fact, I think you are good together, I'm really pleased to have met you because I now know for myself that he goes home to a stable relationship. But…I'm worried that the F.B.I. vetting procedure is coming between you and it shouldn't. Tell me what's wrong?"

"I have a secret life as a writer, Spencer knows about it but no one else, not even my brothers," she confessed.

"Look, as far as the F.B.I. is concerned as long as you pay your taxes and are doing nothing illegal or immoral then they will not object. If Spencer knows then it must be OK because he's such a moral and conscientious man he wouldn't think of jeopardising the job he loves doing."

"Will I be expected to tell you my pen name?"

"Yes, but the F.B.I. is not going to broadcast it, we do have other partners who write you know and its all been kept quiet at our end. Look you have already said that Spencer knows, the F.B.I. can be very discrete and I'll not tell anyone. Just what do you write?" Hotch was really puzzled by her excessive sense of privacy.

"Well you're a profiler work it out," she challenged.

Hotch sat back and observed this small cuddly and definitely maternal woman. She sat happily watching Jack and Spencer run around on the lawn. Hotch could easily forget that she was in fact a renowned expert in her field of cuneiform writing. He thought through the different writing genres; her secrecy and analytical mind could lend itself to crime novels, espionage or science fiction. Her down to earth approach to life lead him to dismiss romance novels but then the pieces all came together in his mind. It was the way she related to Jack, he turned to her and smiled.

"Do you write for children?"

Catherine turned her befreckled round face to him and smiled, it was utterly trusting, her deep grey eyes held him, weighing him up before replying, "Yes,"

"So why all the secrecy?"

"I'm very successful and I do give money to children's medical charities. I choose them and they are often in poorer states. If my name gets out… I don't want the begging letters because there is only so much you can do…" she simply replied.

Hotch listened carefully and realised that in her own very sensitive way this genius touched many lives, far more than Spencer would in his work, but she also knew her limits.

"You're Amy Sequoia," he quietly stated, remembering reading how a children's hospital in Alabama had received an unexpected donation to help refurbish their burns unit. They put a thank you in two national newspapers because they were so thrilled by the donation. The author's agent had been interviewed but he wouldn't give anything away. He only said that Amy choose to give money to places that might otherwise be forgotten.

"That's our secret," she said softly, pleading with her eyes not to betray this information.

"I promise," he quietly re-assured. He was amused by her sense of humour against herself; a sequoia was the tallest native American tree. He saw Hayley walking toward the table with a tray of coffee and a trainer mug of juice for Jack.

"Jack dink!" Jack shouted on seeing her. Spencer looked as if he could do with a break too.

Many hours later, Aaron Hotchner sat in his study and thought about the conversation he had had with Spencer. He felt he should have reached out to Gideon's protégé sooner and should not have been so reliant upon Gideon's assessment of the situation. However, this afternoon only confirmed his own growing sense that Gideon may be moving towards the end of his career and he needed supporting too. He would have to keep a closer eye on Gideon's dealings with the team just in case he missed another cry for help.

However, the lunch with the young couple had gone well. Hayley had particularly liked Catherine and Hotch sensed a genuine friendship in the making outside of their partners' work. Spencer Reid had revealed another side to his personality; a social side which was confident and devoid of 'sprouting endless facts and figures' for which he was well known when on the job. But above all, Hotch had seen a profiler who could surpass his mentor, if he could just get the balance right between the pressures of work and a happy home life. He got up and switched off the light before mounting the stairs. Aaron Hotchner was a man who knew how precious a happy home life was and he worked hard to keep it that way.


	7. Chapter 7

Conversations 7: A Personal Twist 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended: I have borrowed the characters to play with a few of mine.**

Spencer stood alone in the conference room: it had a round table to signify the respect for each other's contributions that they brought here and where everyone was an equal and encouraged to share their ideas. Or so it should be, but Spencer was not sure about that at the moment, this case was not going well.

He had seemed to be clashing with Gideon since the start, although Hotch was trying his best to soothe the increasingly irritable older man. He knew what was wrong even if the other junior members wanted to ignore the tetchiness in the older agent. Gideon had taken the minimum time of personal leave after the Frank Breitkopf case. It had been a public relations disaster for the BAU as well as a very personal tragedy for Jason Gideon and Sarah's family, and there had been two further deaths and a kidnapping. Spencer was thankful that he and J.J had found Tracey Belle alive in Mary Breitkopf's New York apartment. She would need counselling after such a traumatic experience but she was essentially unharmed a minor miracle considering what Frank had done to the older women.

The aftermath for the department was still being felt. Gideon was not at his best, there were times when Reid caught Hotch watching him closely; they were both looking for the breaking point. Gideon was moody; there was an edginess that sent Spencer, the psychologist, into observation mode. Gideon was suffering from post-traumatic stress but he was insisting that he was functional and that it was better that he was working than alone in his new apartment. Reid surmised that Hotch was torn because Max, the chief psychologist, had thrown the ball back into his court saying that he had to taken the required minimum time, but then it was up to Hotch to assess him in the field. Reid wondered if Hotch was worried that if he didn't let Gideon back then he was more likely to fall into the black hole of depression and who would be with him at home to monitor that.

Reid also sensed that something else was worrying Hotch and he wondered if Erin Strauss was pressuring him because of Gideon's behaviour during the Breitkopf case. She was known for being very media sensitive and the media had had a field day with the events Frank had put into motion. Spencer didn't usually get involved with the finer points of the Bureau's politics and tried to keep well under the wire. But the team had all been exposed during the past year to such an extent that an outsider might think that they were a law unto themselves. They were not of course: Elle had been cleared but Hotch obviously was not convinced of her innocence, and she had left. Morgan's early experiences had come back to haunt him, but he had testified with out flinching. JJ and himself had made the wrong decision out in the field, but they had come out of the experience despite the psychological scars. Both had admitted to each other that they couldn't go backwards, and were trying to use the experience to be better agents.

Spencer had felt for some time that Gideon was retreating more and more into himself. A casual observer might think that this was natural now that the student had become a competent agent in the field, and the mentor was giving him room to develop with the whole of the team. When Spencer had first arrived he was very much a father figure but then he had had his first depressive episode after the Boston bombing. Reid had continued to visit Gideon when he could but the ties really began to lessen when Gideon returned to the BAU, but this time Hotch was in charge. Hotch was a different leader, Spencer had adapted and appreciated what he could learn from the other man.

So here he was at 9 p.m. on a Saturday alone in the department. Everyone else had gone home to get some sleep on Friday, after what seemed like a wild goose chase in Pennsylvania. However, the case was nagging at Reid because it reminded him of something during his sick leave.

He stared once more at his notes of the three definite victims: all in their early 20's, college educated, good jobs and seemingly from very ordinary backgrounds, all of them were Caucasian, and under 5 foot 4 inches. All had lived alone and did not seem to be involved in a relationship, they all used public transport. This much the team agreed with but there seemed no other apparent linking factor. Gideon had been dismissive of the case from the start saying that it was too random. However, they had been sent to Pennsylvania because the Governor's wife was a friend of Erin Strauss. The team had not liked the interference; Strauss was not liked because she had too many friends in high places.

The team had gone to Philadelphia and had reviewed all the material. But Gideon seemed to sway the others into accepting a rather vague profile and he assured the police that they probably didn't have a serial killer in their midst. Gideon pointed out the possibility of 3 different murderers who may have had an unknown connection with each of the victims. He asserted that the method of disposal of the bodies, washed and in bin liners, was very common. Besides, if you wanted to kill someone: a small woman was easier to overpower, strangulation was effective, washed bodies removed evidence. Bin liners were easily available; you needed transport to the deserted dumping ground but if you knew the area, it was still fairly easy to get away with it in a big country like the U.S.

However, Reid initially noticed how none had been native to the state, although they seemed to have worked there for 2 to 3 years. Reid took up the notes from three files again and reviewed the personal details once more.

Megan Saddler, 24, English graduate of NYU, lived in Philadelphia for 23 months, worked as a librarian. Mother and brother were still living in Trenton, New Jersey. Seemed to be quiet but liked at work. No boy friend. Hobbies: member of music society, theatre club, reading group. Mother had reported her missing after not hearing from her for a week.

Joanna Latimer, 24, maths graduate of Oregon, only child, both parents died with in past three years, originally from Eugene, where both parents had taught in local high schools. Worked as an accountant in Philadelphia for 3 years. Reported missing by company secretary because she had not been seen for 4 days and not answering door. Described as pleasant and conscientious. Nothing known about a boyfriend. Hobbies: art galleries, choral music and needlework guild.

Faye Wallender, 23, French graduate, University of Michigan. Raised in Albany, N.Y. Only child, mother died when she was 20 and father was an alcoholic. Worked in a city bookshop. Reported missing by work colleague after she didn't come to work for 5 days; her apartment seemed tidy but no indication that she had packed anything to go away on a trip. Fridge full of food. Described by neighbours and colleagues as nice, no problems. Never talked about her personal life. Hobbies: reading, photography and family history.

The lead detective, Doug Vernon, thought that he had a possible serial killer because of the similarities in the cases: the women all showed signs of strangulation when found. All were dumped naked, wrapped in black bin liners in deserted beauty spots hundreds of miles apart in the state. All were in varying degrees of decomposition. Megan had gone missing in January 05 and had been found in April 06, Joanna had been reported missing in March 04 and found at the beginning of July 06. Faye had gone missing in May 07 and found last week at the end of July. All showed signs that the windpipe had been crushed as if by very strong hands,

Reid kept being drawn back to their photographs, not the ones from the crime scenes, but those that families and friends had provided. He decided to follow through the nagging idea that refused to be reasoned away, he dialled hoping the conscientious detective would still be in his office.

"Detective Vernon, Dr. Reid, …Yes, I'm still working on the case, I had a thought and Agent Hotchner gave me permission to run with an idea before we have a meeting on Monday to review the case." He chatted away, smoothing the ruffled feathers that he knew Gideon had caused in their five-day stay where they had gone over things but Reid had not been satisfied with the profile produced.

"Do you have an inventory of things in their apartments…oh marvellous, you couldn't fax them could you? " he soothed again, putting on as much charm as he could muster. "Really, that's great. I'm still looking for a connection. If I come up with anything, I'll keep you in the loop. Thank you for your time…Yeah, I've got some one waiting for me at home too…Goodnight and thank you for your help."

Gideon had said that the parameters were initially too broad, that these could just be random killings. Just because they were strangled and wrapped in black bags, well it was common. Gideon had dismissed his theory but there was something and he may just have found his link. He had spent two days looking for similarities to link the victims for a more refined computer search of the databases of missing persons and bodies found.

He went back to Garcia's lair, there was quite a list forming of missing women that fitted his refined parameters: Caucasian, aged 21-25, 5 foot 4 and below, of medium build, college educated with no apparent partner, no car, not living in the same state as family, interest in public lectures, within easy travelling of a university campus. Then there was the other list of bodies fitting his given description but found strangled, wrapped naked in black bin bags in deserted locations. Gideon was correct, it was a common mode of disposal, but then he began to see a pattern; some of the names were on both lists.

Spencer Reid did not go home until nearly midnight; he found Catherine sitting up in bed reading assignments and muttering to her self.

"God! How could they spell that wrong … even with spell check!" he watched her as he took of his clothes as quietly as he could so as not to disturb her concentration.

He wandered into the ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower. He was tired but his thoughts were crowding in, tumbling over themselves for priority. He tried to think of other things away from work. They had moved here a month ago and already he felt totally at home in the house. Catherine had organised the move as he'd been too busy as usual.

He smiled to himself when he remembered how on the way home, after lunch with the Hotchners, she had said that she'd fill in the proper contact forms. Spencer had printed them off as soon as he got home just in case she got cold feet. Hotch was not surprised when he had quietly slipped them onto his desk the next day. In fact, that lunch had been significant for both men and they now seemed more at ease with each others company and would share a joke if on their own. He also noticed how Hotch was working more with him and when they did so they often discussed the house or what he had been doing in his spare time. Hotch was pleased that Reid's relationship with his father was continuing and was strengthened with every meeting. Reid tried to turn off from the work he'd been doing all day but there was something he needed to ask Catherine and he didn't want to worry her.

He pulled on a green towelling robe and went back into the bedroom. She smiled up at him as she put aside the assignment,

"Oh I've had enough of that lot, I've been marking since I got back from Richmond."

"How are Marcus, MaryAnne and the little ones?"

"Fine, Lucy has made you a monster cookie. She says you have to go soon because my cooking is not as good as yours…I refuse to feel snubbed, I know you are the best monster cookie maker in the world."

He lay on top of the quilt chuckling, "I'll have to ring tomorrow and thank her, I'll take it with me into work," he added, thinking it would be a treat alongside the home-made sandwiches Catherine would insist on making him."

"So you're going in again…are you getting anywhere?"

"Actually, I think I may be and there is something I want to ask you about?" perhaps he should have left it 'til morning but he wouldn't have slept well; he was too fired up with the details.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asked, she was giving him all her attention now, her face shone with its alertness and Spencer marvelled again at the treasure he shared his life with.

"Do you remember, about 9 months ago, I was on sick leave and you had to give a lecture at the university one Saturday morning. I said I'd meet you off the train and we'd booked a late lunch at 'Nature's Table'?"

Catherine's face mirrored the unease she felt, "You mean when I thought I'd been followed by that man who had attended the lecture?"

"Yeah…" Spencer confirmed softly, wondering if it was the right time to pursue this and how to explain further without upsetting her.

"You think he has something to do with your case?" said Catherine, her genius mind swiftly made the connections.

"Perhaps, or I may be chasing wild geese…it's just there are certain similarities between the victims and …"

"Me," she interjected, "You'd better explain or I'll not sleep,"

He reached across the small distance between them and slipped his arms around her drawing her into a protective embrace, "Now listen carefully, if I'm right, you did all the right things to discourage him. If he had followed you he would have seen that you had a partner and furthermore, we went back to my apartment after the meal so he would not know your address. So he's not going to come back is that clear?"

He felt her nod her head but sensed that she had tensed up within his arms with the memory.

"Catherine, can you remember what he looked like, I mean enough for a photofit?"

"I can do better than that, I had that lecture recorded. I later edited it before putting the disc in the library of lectures to be used by other departments, I've still got the master…he's on it at then end because he came up to the podium."

"Really!" Spencer couldn't believe his luck, his mind raced ahead with all the possibilities from having the man's likeness. He squeezed her tightly with the enthusiasm that was coursing through his veins.

"Do you want me to show you now? asked Catherine, knowing the answer because they were so alike when caught up with an idea. She was already beginning to wriggle free before he replied.

She grabbed her electric blue silk robe and was on her way out of the room before Spencer had pushed himself off the bed.

He found her in her study, going through a box of DVDs having already switched on the computer.

"Here we are," she said triumphantly, and very quickly she fast-forwarded to the close of the lecture. Several people had approached the podium at the end to give comments or to ask for clarification but then he saw the man, middle 20's to early 30's, well dressed of average build, entering her personal space and Catherine's demeanour changed. As a psychologist he saw that she was erecting an invisible barrier, she physically tried to withdraw a little to keep an acceptable space between them. Her once smiling and open face had become closed and officious, she was not encouraging any conversation, but the man either did not read the cues she was giving or he was choosing to ignore them.

"I'll make you a copy of this end bit," she said reaching into a stack to find an empty disc.

"Yeah, I'll be able to use it on any other footage we might have of the other victims," Spencer replied, his task now seeming to be within reach. The facial recognition programme would perhaps help to connect him with one or hopefully several missing women. He felt he could go to bed now and get some rest. He waited for Catherine to complete her task and they returned to bed, both grateful that he had been there to meet her that day.

After a few minutes she spoke into the darkness, "Spencer, You still awake?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" he moved closer to her, putting his arm protectively over her body.

"I've just remembered something I didn't tell you, He stopped his car at the bus stop while I was waiting and offered me a lift. I refused saying that I was taking the bus and fortunately there were a couple of other people waiting at the stop as well. But when I got on the bus, I wrote down the car number on my lecture prompt sheet for that day …just in case something had happened I suppose I thought perhaps someone would find it," her voice trailed off.

"You still got that sheet?"

"Well you know we historians hate throwing away anything. We're always thinking of future generations finding our bits and pieces and trying to make some sense out of them," she tried to lighten the enormity of what she was saying. "It will be filed under Babylonian lectures, in date order, in the top filing cabinet drawer. I'll get it for you tomorrow."

He moved even closer, "It might be useful, even if it was a hire car," He thought back to that day and how shaken his normal confident Catherine had been when he had met her. For the rest of that night they lay closely entwined to keep any bad dreams banished from their bed.

Reid's Sunday was very busy, requesting extra details to be faxed to him and down loading footage from the cases of possible victims. The time flew by but at least he had happy memories as he munched on the food he had brought with him. He remembered to call little Lucy and to thank her for his delicious monster cookie. He re-assured her that he would rather be feeding the donkeys and the ducks, which was a favourite activity when he and Catherine looked after Lucy and Ben.

His mind crossed referenced the data from the different cases as it came in. Finally by the evening he felt he had something to present to the team tomorrow, but first he had promised Hotch to give him a progress call.

"Hi, Hotch I hope it's not inconvenient," he asked as he rang at 9 p.m.

"No, Spencer, Jack's in bed and we were just chatting, nothing of great importance. Did you get any where with your idea?" he asked, genuinely hoping that the earnest young agent had not wasted his precious free time. Hotch could understand Gideon's assessment, but Hotch sensed that there was something more in this, it was rare for Reid to persist against his mentor on a case. He thought back to Philadelphia and the shock that went around the room assigned to the team, when Reid did not automatically endorse Gideon's profile. He had quietly stated that they were missing a connection, and perhaps a little more time would lead them to see things differently.

Gideon had snapped at Reid saying that his years of experience told him that this was a case of three unrelated murders and to accept that they sometimes had to face the fact that not all cases were connected or could be solved. The team was quiet; they had not liked being sent to the city because their boss was friendly with the state's Governor and Hotch privately wondered if Strauss was looking to use this case in some way against himself.

"Hotch, I have made progress and ...well if I'm right then we are dealing with a serial killer who's been at work for a few years."

" Are you ready to give a presentation to the team tomorrow at 9.00?"

"Yes, I'm still awaiting some data to come in to my requests but I've got enough to put my case,"

"I look forward to hearing it then…Go and spend some time with Catherine. Goodnight, Reid" Hotch put down his phone and thought that tomorrow would be difficult for both mentor and protégé, but it had to come one day, it was just that Hotch had not thought it would come so soon."

Spencer had arrived at 7:30 the next day and went to collect any other faxes and email attachments that were relevant to his searches. When Garcia arrived about 15 minutes later, she demanded to know what he had been doing in her domain. He quickly filled her in about his weekend activities.

"Why didn't you call me, I'd have helped. Is there anything I can do now?" suddenly all serious and amazed that her 'junior G man' had done so much on his own.

Spencer was grateful and sent her to continue the work on various video camera footage with the facial recognition programme. Then he went to arrange the conference room to his liking and to keep out of the way until the appointed time. At around 9 a. m. the team began to gather with their cups of coffee. Morgan and Emily came in first chatting but became subdued with the contents of the room. J.J. followed on their heels, then Hotch who gave him a re-assuring nod and finally Gideon entered, he swiftly scanned the room and noted, like the others, that the expected 3 victims had been joined on the display board by other female faces. He said nothing but looked hard at Reid, realising that their youngest agent had been busy.

Hotch began after Gideon had taken a seat, "Reid had an idea about the Pennsylvania case, and I gave him permission to use the departments resources over the weekend to see if it went anywhere. I know as much as the rest of you, so let us listen to what he has gathered together," he said evenly.

Spencer stepped before the display board, "I want you to look at these faces, what do you see?" he asked as he stepped to one side.

The team looked, all wondering what is was that their colleague wanted them to see. Spencer watched their reactions: J.J. was carefully scrutinising the board but her face mirrored her puzzlement, Emily spoke first, "Well besides the most obvious that they are all women in their early 20s, with dark hair ranging from brunette to deep auburn, nothing" she sounded bemused. Spencer noted that her eyes betrayed a look of benign pity.

"They're all Caucasian, are they all small like the 3 Penn. Victims?" asked J.J.

"Yes," Spencer confirmed, "Anything else that strikes you about them?" Reid persisted.

The faces round the table looked puzzled, Gideon was quiet, his face a neutral mask. Hotch observed the group dynamics. Morgan and Emily glanced towards Gideon as if to find answers in his direction and then Emily looked at Hotch. J.J. continued to look at the board of photographs as if spell bound by the number of mostly smiling faces.

"They're all got freckles, " said J.J. her voice sounded unsure.

"And…" Reid pressed. But the group fell into a strained silence.

Morgan broke the silence, "Jeez man! I don't know what you're seeing," he exclaimed.

"What do you see, Morgan?" Reid quietly repeated the question for him.

Morgan thought it best to humour their genius, "Look man they're just women, you know, plain ordinary looking women," he stated shrugging slightly as he expressed his opinion.

"Precisely," replied Spencer softly, "The sort of women who'd not be noticed in a crowd, those plain women who no one remembers because they lead quiet lives. They do not draw attention to themselves in their dress or the way they live, in essence, the sort of women who are usually only missed by their immediate families. But these women have other things in common, he clicked on the display panel to reveal a check list which he ran through for them.

"All of these women are aged between 21 and 25. All are college graduates, all were in work but had few close friends. They did not live in their home state, nor where they had graduated. All lived alone, they were not in a known relationship, all used public transport. All had rather quiet interests, these were not the type of women who would spend an evening in a bar, disco or partying. They had lead quiet lives while at college, with a small circle of friends, and tended to be studious compared with their more extrovert contemporaries. They all lived within easy travelling of a college campus and they all had in their possession literature about public university lectures. Family and friends have confirmed that they did follow up interests through these lectures."

Reid stopped and assessed his audience: they were silent taking in the scenario he was producing.

"So let us imagine our unsub targets these plain intelligent women. They are flattered when they meet him at a lecture because it implies a shared interest. He takes the time to talk to them, perhaps by suggesting coffee while on the campus. It's all very normal, unthreatening, he might get them to reveal a little about themselves. He only continues if he thinks they live alone.

He may suggest a further meeting but he's very careful to make this a daytime meeting, in a public place, so again to re-assure the woman that he's a nice sensitive guy, going slowly to gain their confidence. If he really likes what he sees but the woman is shy, he may stalk her and then engineer a further meeting, perhaps on a busy street but again in the daytime to make it all seem unthreatening and normal."

"But," said Emily, "These are college graduates surely they were more experienced than a 17 year old, being flattered by the attention."

"Emily, you are not a plain woman, you have an air of confidence about you, you are tall and thin and can dress in the latest fashions. You go into bars on your own. You know how to confidently socialise with people because you have been brought up to do that due to the very nature of your parents' work. You do not think as a plain woman, who went through college with little or no experience of a steady boyfriend, who tended to bury themselves in their studies for some recognition of their existence." Reid gently countered.

"At some stage," Reid continued, "he gains their confidence enough to get them to the place he is living, which is probably a house, they probably go at night time and it is there that they are killed. However, this is all quite early in the relationship because these woman have not told their families or colleagues that they have a boyfriend."

"Why not, you'd think that they'd want to broadcast it?" asked J.J.

"These woman are not young teenagers, they don't want to announce to family and friends that they have a boyfriend only for it to fizzle out very quickly. No, shy, plain people tend to keep their private lives very private until they are sure of the situation," replied Spencer. Hotch quietly smiled thinking how closely some of this could be perhaps applied to Reid's relationship with Catherine. He suddenly wondered where they had met; he decided to file away that question for a later date and when they were alone.

I did a search of the relevant databases and came out with quite a list of possible names of missing women who fit these parameters. There are 60."

There was a stunned silence, but Spencer broke it as he continued, "I then searched for bodies of naked women found strangled, sheeted in bin liners and left at beauty spots and I came up with 16 possible matches. I contacted the relevant police departments and had details faxed to me. Some of the investigations even had CCTV footage of the victim before her disappearance, so I could use the facial recognition programme."

"But we don't know what the unsub looks like?" asserted Morgan.

"I think we do, I'll tell you how one possible victim escaped his attentions. About 9 months ago, the Theology department of Virginia University was running a series of Saturday lectures. One concerned the Babylonian culture, at the end of this lecture the unsub approached the woman lecturing. She felt uncomfortable by his manner, she is superficially plain but Dr. Fox has travelled widely and has far more confidence than the unsub recognised. She gave him the brush off and went to catch the bus to the station. While waiting at the stop, he drove up in his car and offered her lift, which she declined, but she felt so uneasy that she wrote down his car number. She felt he had followed her to the station, when the train came she deliberately found an occupied compartment and sat next to another woman.

Dr. Fox was met at Alexandria by her boyfriend and they went together to a friend's restaurant where they had arranged to have a late lunch. She told him briefly what had happened and how she felt that he had followed her, even off the train. He re-assured her but they decided to go to the boyfriend's apartment instead of the woman's just in case. He was vigilant walking home but he was not aware of being followed. The next week when she had to go to the campus for a normal day of lectures, the boyfriend went with her and worked in the library, but she has not seen the man since. It was only on Saturday night that I found out that the lecture had been filmed and that she had the master DVD with the man's approach at the end…I'm going to play it for you now."

The screen came to life. There was a lecture hall podium, on the screen behind was a map of the extent of the Babylonian empire, but it was the small womanly figure who had just finished the lecture that held their attention. Only Hotch and Gideon now truly understood the significance of this case for the young man. An elderly cleric was given the reference of her latest article and then a man, Caucasian around 30, Hotch thought, stood a little too close to her. He judged by comparing Catherine's height with the unsub, that he was 5 foot 10 and broad shouldered, the well cut mid-grey suit probably hid muscled arms because his wrists and hands looked strong: a weight-lifter he concluded. His voice was pleasant, he looked very ordinary; another unnoticed plain face with neatly cut brown hair and brown eyes.

"That was a very interesting lecture, Dr. Fox. Will you be travelling back to the Middle East in the near future?" he asked.

Catherine Fox, stepped back a little to put more space between them, "Not in the foreseeable future, it's politically difficult and safer to concentrate on my expertise in cuneiform writing," she replied, but the group noticed how her former openness had altered to a much more guarded stance.

"I suppose you want to return to the British Museum. Is it true that they have the best collection of cuneiform writing in the world?" he said, as he seemed to lean into her space again.

Catherine's round befreckled face had totally lost its friendliness, the once twinkling deep grey eyes now looked dull, the whole face closed and very officious. The tone of her voice had an edge of cold efficiency to it as she replied, " The finest collection. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get on." She brusquely collected her leather satchel and turned to leave.

"Oh, must you go, I was hoping you would join me for coffee," he said smiling, once more stepping towards her, and entering her invisible exclusion zone.

"I think not, I have to go," she said firmly moving away and walking towards the private back exit with a firm step."

"Boy! And he still stopped his car at the bus stop!" exclaimed Emily.

"Doesn't like being thwarted does he?" said Hotch.

"Do you think he followed her on to the train?" Morgan pressed.

"I don't know, I didn't notice him when I met her. She only said she'd just had a bad experience after the lecture, but then she didn't tell me about it until we were in the restaurant." confessed Reid.

"She's your girlfriend?" said J.J. softly, finally lots of little things falling into place.

Spencer smiled at her and nodded.

"Oh yeah, for how long?" teased Morgan.

"Call yourself a profiler," Spencer Reid faced his colleague, "Catherine and I have been together for 2 years."

Morgan looked at their genius with new eyes, just how much had he missed? He looked to Hotch who was eyeing him with amused eyes. So the Unit Chief knew all about it, he concluded and Gideon didn't look surprised. Morgan shook his head, 'there's none so blind' he said mentally kicking him self for missing the signals.

"I have run some of the CCTV footage from other investigations into the missing women. I've found him on the footage, always behind the victim, in 6 cases so far. Of course not all the investigations were as thorough as to collect footage of the victims, Garcia is working on some more as we speak. But so far I have him in Baltimore, Washington D.C., Chicago, Boston, Las Vegas and New York," stated Spencer quietly refocusing on to the case.

"Where do you think he's going to strike next?" asked Hotch, "Did you get anywhere with the car number?"

"The car was hired out to a David Smith, the driving licence was an old address in Albany, he hasn't lived there for 18 months but he paid by credit card and he seems to have several addresses and several other cards with a very good credit limit. This guy has money; I am still awaiting all the results I set into motion yesterday,"

As if on cue, Garcia suddenly appeared with several sheets of paper, "Sorry, Reid but I've got more hits with the victims, I've got him in New York a second time but with a different vic. and then in Los Angeles and with one of the Philadelphia women. Then there's the icing on the cake; I've found out why this guy has such good credit," Garcia paused, enjoying the moment in the limelight.

Reid indulged her, he thought she was looking particularly extrovert today; the blouse was a kaleidoscope of colour, in which her favourite vermillion seemed to just, but only just, predominate over gold, silver, electric blue and violet. Her skirt, by contrast, was a more sober electric blue. To finish the ensemble, she had matching electric blue barrettes in her wild hair.

"Well?" prompted Hotch.

"Mommy won a share of the New York lottery 6 years ago," she said triumphantly, "And his main home address is given as just outside Princeton according to the IRS. He got the lot after his mother died of cancer, 5 years ago and his sister committed suicide 2 months after."

"Genuine suicide?" asked Reid.

"Oh yeah, brother was in Paris when she shot herself through the head, the housekeeper found her and she was known to have been in a depressed state after her mother's death."

"Well, it explains why he can travel around at country at will and can rent out houses to stay in while he's lining up his next victim. We'll have to do some more checking about his spending patterns over the last 5 years, to see if it strengthens the case against him. We need to place him living in the areas when the victims disappeared." said Reid, feeling a quiet satisfaction that the threads seemed to be coming together to form a rich and complex pattern of movement behind a serial killer.

"You thinking that the death of his Mom followed by the sister are the stressor?" asked Emily.

"Yeah, at the moment I can only connect him with a victim just five years ago, but it looks like we are looking at a serial killer. Oh sorry Hotch, you asked if I had any idea where he might strike again. Well, plotting the dates and places the women disappeared, I think there could be a possible target in Princeton or Virginia because he only has 3 victims in each of these places so far, where as at the others it's 4 and 5. We have to take into account the open lectures on offer. He seems to go for History, Music, Art and Literature…all the liberal arts subjects that would attract women."

"And timing?" asked Emily.

"There are some open lectures at Princeton next weekend, they are ticket only so I'll need Garcia to check to see if he's booked a place. Then there is a special Emily Dickinson weekend series at Charlottesville campus in three weeks time; again it's a tickets only affair," said Reid, hoping that they will be able to amass enough evidence to prevent another tragedy.

"Well done," said Gideon, immediately gaining the total attention of the room, "I am proud of you, Spencer," he said. The master and pupil locked eyes; Spencer Reid stood before the presentation screen and felt the uniqueness of the moment. There was no bitterness or resentment in the mentor's voice just a warm respect for the profiler who had come of age. Spencer was proud that he had lived up to Gideon's belief in him to be part of an exclusive team at such a young age. Both men smiled at each other, it spoke volumes to Hotch who sensed his old friend passing the baton to a younger generation.

"Right then," Hotch took command and the team members were assigned specific tasks to make as watertight case as possible. Spencer took a moment to call Detective Vernon to keep his promise; sometimes keeping good relations with the various police departments they encountered could pay dividends should they ever cross paths in the future. He had learnt a great deal from Gideon but Hotch was having an influence in more subtle ways.

Four days later, David Smith was taken by surprise by an early morning F.B.I. raid upon his spacious house, in an exclusive suburb of Princeton. He couldn't believe that he was being taken into custody for questioning concerning the murder of at least 16 women, over the past 5 years. At the same time, his 4 other houses in the states of Illinois, California, New York and Massachusetts were raided. Dr. Reid had specifically instructed the teams to look for literature concerning public university lectures, waterproof overalls, women's clothing and female trinkets that might be construed as trophies. Gideon had stepped back from the investigation allowing Reid to conduct a series of interviews with the suspect.

At first David Smith, had played the bemused innocent man and had refused a lawyer, but Gideon and Hotch had watched outside as the unassuming Dr. Reid had quietly shown him the photographs, first of the smiling women and then of crime scenes. Reid noted the tiny flicker of disbelief from Smith that this youthful man had seen through his act of injured innocence.

"You have been very clever, choosing quiet, plain women. If your victims had been beautiful, people would have remembered them when enquiries were made into their disappearances. But you felt safe enough to use your own very common name, even to hire cars and rent houses. Oh yes, we have established that you were living in the specific areas at the time of their respective disappearances, you even attended the same public lectures. Credit card histories are very useful, not just yours but the victims' cards also. It's amazing how much we pay for by card these days, isn't it?" Reid said conversationally.

"Other men attended public lectures, it's pure co-incidence," Smith quietly stated with a slight smile.

"We have you on CCTV footage, at train stations and bus termini, always in a crowd behind the victim,"

"Come now, that's a little flimsy don't you think. If I have gone to a university area to attend a series of public lectures, of course I'm going to be seen doing normal things like using the public transport."

"But always at the same time as the victims?" Reid countered with his soft voice. "Once, a co-incidence, perhaps twice, but 22 times with ten different victims and not always on the same day as the lectures, over a span of 5 years?"

"You're totally wrong, it is pure co-incidence. A lawyer would easily argue my case. I fail to see what you think my motive would be?" the man said calmly, "I am wealthy, I can travel anywhere and believe me, wealth attracts female company, why me?" he asked with confidence.

"It was only when I saw the photographs of your mother and Mary that I realised," Spencer reached into the file on the desk taking out two photographs, both shared the brown eyes of David Smith. Reid placed the photographs on the table and turned them so Smith was looking at his mother and sister.

"Your mother died of cancer 5 years ago, despite all the money she had it could not buy her good health," Spencer gently said, carefully watching the suspect as he couldn't help himself from staring at the two significant women before him. "Mary was 2 years older than you and plain, even plainer than your mother, but she was the favourite child. You worked hard at school and went to college but your mother still ignored your achievements, and praised your rather ordinary sister. It was such a shame that your father had died when you were 6, you lost your role model and your Mom never looked at another man after his death.

You were brought up in a household of two plain women who did so much together, but you were never let into that world. You were the boy who grew into a man who could not be included in their world of shopping and gossip. You observed them; you saw how your Mom tried to boost Mary's self-confidence, always giving her extra money to buy make-up, make-up that would never adequately cover her freckles. When she won the money, your Mom did pay off the debt for your college education but you were still excluded from their world of travelling before your Mom became ill. Mary was devastated, she had always relied upon Mom for advice and self-confidence.

You had taken a perverse interest in your sister's life. No matter whatever she did, to try and make herself attractive, she failed. Mary was small and rounded, like your Mom, not the tall, slender type who wore the fashions in the fancy magazines she read. Mary was once a shop assistant, her conversation was hardly stimulating, but she was always reading trying to improve herself. Mary went to evening classes and you watched and saw how deflated she was when tentative friendships with men came to nothing. I think that is where you learnt about the insecurities of plain women, did you test out your early observations on the plain women you saw at college?" Spencer Reid asked softly, but he didn't expect a reply. The man opposite him seemed spellbound, listening but unable to respond to the profiler, a predator caught startled by the dazzling of unexpected light.

"Poor Mary was devastated by the death of the only person she thought who loved her and would ever love her. She gave no thought to your feelings; you were not wanted at your Mom's bedside, it was always your sister who was the great comfort to her. Even in her last moments, it was Mary who was there not you. Then she selfishly shot herself leaving you alone. You inherited a lot of money, and like you said, you need never be without a woman. But it's not the same is it, you like to gain the confidence of a plain woman," continued the agent. Spencer maintained his unthreatening demeanour, his voice was soft, utterly gentle as he expounded his theory.

"You had to make it interesting for yourself so you chose to use public university lectures, there was usually a plain woman there. You looked for the obvious signs of a relationship; a ring on the finger, or if they were unaccompanied, then you watched to assess their confidence. You made your move if they seemed to sit towards the back of the lecture room, or put space between themselves and the next member of the audience. If you felt satisfied that they were alone, you would approach at the coffee break or strike up a conversation at the end of the lecture. Always careful to give the woman all your attention with encouraging smiles, and engineering the conversation so they talked about their personal lives. You made a point of making them feel at ease, not showing too much knowledge about yourself. If they were unsure of the subject matter of the lecture, you held back because you didn't want to come across as a know all. I think you would agree with any observations they made, to re-assure them that you valued their insights and comments on the lecture and the world in general.

If you were lucky, you would arrange a further meeting for lunch; lunch is less threatening than dinner because it's daytime and a woman can always escape back to work. If she was playing harder to get, you might have picked up where she worked so you could engineer a chance meeting in the street. If not, then you might carefully follow her to make sure that she lived alone and didn't have family near by or a close friend who might act as her confidante, or alert the police quickly if she disappeared.

When you thought you had their confidence, you would somehow get them to the house you were using. You strangled them there; this was your greatest pleasure, this was where you achieved sexual release wasn't it, nothing is quite so good as throttling the life out of a plain woman. No absolutely nothing, you could have your pick of the beauties, they're two a penny if you've got money, but you can't always perform can you? The sexual thrill isn't there with a beautiful woman. But you don't rape these women, you don't have that desire to enter them, even after strangling them. The ecstasy is in the strangulation, pressuring the windpipe so you eventually crush it, while watching their eyes go dull as you squeeze out the life.

Do you like them to struggle, just a little bit? Heightens the orgasm does it? I think perhaps you do, that's why you choose isolated houses. Then if they fought back, there would be no one to hear them. It gives you time to strip them and wash away any evidence before carefully wrapping them in black bin liners ready for transporting them to a lonely spot. You like to place them in a beautiful place, a lonely but beautiful place where their souls can find peace. Mary left instructions for her ashes to be scattered, near your mother's, in a beautiful place, didn't she?"

David Smith had no voice to answer this unassuming man, he had never thought any one would make the connections, but even now he was sure that they didn't have conclusive proof, so Smith felt he was still safe. They wouldn't be able to convict; he could afford a good lawyer. But the quiet man was speaking again.

"So what do you keep as your trophy, killers like you always keep a memento?"

"If you're so convinced I killed these women then you tell me," Smith replied, shaking his head as if in disbelief at all he had heard.

Spencer Reid stared at the man's face and waited a few more seconds before saying, "I think you take a lock of their hair,"

"How did you know?" replied Smith and regretted the words as soon as they were said.

"Mothers with plain daughters always find something positive to say about their appearance, eyes and hair are the most common," Spencer replied with no change in his soft voice, but inside he felt a glow of satisfaction that they now knew what they were looking for in his houses.

Outside the room, Hotch and Gideon had watched the whole interview.

"We've got him!" beamed Gideon. It was a good to know that his gut feeling when he first met the genius had been justified. Reid was Gideon's natural successor, not quite yet, Reid needed a few more years experience before he moved up in seniority. But he was brilliant and the BAU would have his expertise for many years to come. Gideon felt more at ease with himself than he had for some months; he had some important calls to make today.

"He's had a good teacher," said Hotch and took out his phone to pass on the information for the search teams.

The next morning, while J.J. and Hotch were working on the content of the press conference to be held at midday, Reid sat alone in the conference room. On the round table before him lay a rosewood jewellery box, inlaid with a silver rose design on the lid. The inside was lined with soft crimson velvet, and in any other circumstances Reid would have admired the craftsmanship and the attractive design, but the contents of the box lay out on the table. There were locks of hair, ranging from a deep auburn to a rich brunette, each tied with a small piece of white satin ribbon which had also been threaded through a tag of lightweight card. On these small rectangles of white, in a small but precise hand, were written the full names of the owners of those locks of hair. It was chilling, there were 48 names, but only 16 bodies had been found and David Smith refused to say where he had disposed of the other bodies. Spencer Reid was certain that the man remembered because he was so meticulous in keeping these trophies.

Earlier, Gideon had sat with him as they matched the names to the missing persons lists. Gideon had looked up and said, "You can give these families some answers; they will now know that their loved ones were his victims and can mourn."

"But they don't have the total closure of a body," Reid had countered.

"Spencer, you may have to accept that this bastard is never going to tell anyone that information,"

Reid knew that his mentor was probably right but beside the 48 known locks were three just meticulously labelled, Sally, Corinne and Martha. He had gone to see David Smith but he refused to say anything about these three. Reid surmised that they were the very first victims, the ones he perfected his technique upon. These names didn't appear to match any Corinne, Martha or Sally in 'missing persons' descriptions so far. It seemed likely that they were young women who had fallen through the safety nets of family, friends and work colleagues; just drifters who had been picked up and no one had noticed their disappearance. It had been agreed to mention the locks of hair at the press conference in the hope that someone might remember these three women but in reality, none of the unit thought it was likely they would solve this mystery.

The case was front-page news and the lead television news report for the day. Although, J.J. and Hotch fronted the press conference, the Director had insisted that Spencer stand beside him on the podium. It was a triumph for the BAU and the Director praised the work of the whole team but especially the quiet determination of Dr. Reid to follow through an idea. Meanwhile, Dr. Reid had played down his role, saying that he had just been lucky that a vague idea had pointed them in the correct direction. Reid was never going to mention that an incident experienced by his beloved had been the initial spark.

The team had been given a weeks leave by the Director, who was happily giving as many interviews as possible, about this success of the BAU, to publicise a more positive image of the F.B.I. The team was grateful for the unexpected leave and they went their separate ways as soon as they could.

Spencer entered the house as quietly as he could, he could hear the strains of Bach's solo cello, suite No. 1 coming from the direction of Catherine's study. He crept silently and stopped outside the room, watching through the half open door. Einstein, the stray cat that had adopted them soon after they had moved into the house, was curled up asleep on the large floor cushion, that was placed near the wood burner. He was sure that Catherine only had that bright red cushion in the room for Einstein's comfort, he was a totally spoilt animal.

Catherine had her back to him, she was furiously tapping the keys, replying to e-mails and occasionally humming along to the music and oblivious to his presence. He knew why David Smith had targeted her that Saturday; she had the same hair colour and befreckled round face of his sister. Even the hairstyle was similar, although Mary's was slightly longer in the photographs they had found. He breathed deeply and could detect her familiar rose perfume and his world was filled with the warmth and understanding that Catherine provided for him. This was their retreat from the chaotic world outside and he knew that he needed this to be able to cope with the distress he faced in his work.

"When did you get in?" her voice broke into his thoughts.

He suddenly was embracing his Catherine, her soft curves accommodating his bony thinness; the hug was all the more special for having caught David Smith.

"The Director's given the team a weeks leave, so we all left as soon as we could, just in case he changed his mind," he said, enjoying this simple pleasure.

"I saw you on the news, I think all our neighbours did as well, you're quite a celebrity!"

"It will soon blow over, I don't want to talk about it," he said hoping that Catherine would understand that he needed to be taken well away from the recent case.

"I know," she assured, and didn't let go of him.

They stood for several minutes, quietly appreciating the comfort of the embrace, then Spencer sighed deeply and said, "Marry me,"


	8. Chapter 8

Conversations 8: Hilton By Helena Fallon 

**Disclaimer : I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended; I have just borrowed characters and let them play with a few of my own.**

The unexpected leave passed far too quickly for everyone, but by 8:15 the team were beginning to make an appearance in the BAU department. Emily had been to visit friends in New York and had several lunches with contacts at the U.N. She even managed to find the time to go shopping and was taken to a concert. Emily was filling in J.J. on her purchases when Morgan bounced in with his smile, which he flashed at the newest of the clerical assistants.

"Nice break?" Emily enquired, noticing how refreshed the man looked.

"Great, went home for a few days and then went to join a friend in San Diego. It was really good. I didn't realise how tired I was until I got on the plane to Chicago. What did you do J.J.?"

"Nothing so exciting really, but I got around to decorating the living room in the apartment Simon and I moved into. Then I did some shopping for furnishings and changed a few things round without having to worry about being summoned. It was just nice to have that time to do something without interruption," said the attractive blonde, who like the other two looked rested despite her obvious activities.

"Hotch or Reid in yet?" Morgan enquired, already wanting to be on the move rather than office bound.

"The Director is in with Hotch," said J.J. quietly, "I don't think Hotch was expecting the visitation, but he's been in there a good 30 minutes now."

Emily wondered if it had anything to do with Erin Strauss's politicking while Morgan looked towards the doors for Reid's arrival, and J.J. clarified a secretary's task.

The tall and slender Reid was the last to arrive; he was sauntering along with his tan satchel over his shoulder looking more like a student than a member of an exclusive team. His hair cut, which they all thought was close to the regulations limits, gently waved along the contours of his head and along with his large brown expressive eyes were the most physically attractive things about him. However, he had put on a little weight over the past few months but he still looked painfully thin. Morgan thought how much his Mom wanted to feed him up when they had met, but he knew that Reid was just one of those naturally thin people who could eat anything and not worry about putting on the inches.

"Good morning!" Morgan said as he bounced towards him, "We've all enjoyed our unscheduled week off…I want to thank you for the wonderful time I had," he grinned, every one in the work area came to their own conclusions as to what Morgan had been up to.

Spencer Reid just beamed his trademark smile; it was the kind of smile that made anyone caught in its radiance want to just smile automatically in return.

It was at that moment, Hotch's door opened and the Director stepped out.

"Dr. Reid!" he boomed cheerfully. Reid looked a little embarrassed as the whole room was now listening and taking notice of the Director. He came down the steps with a big smile and hand already held out, "I believe congratulations are in order. Saw your father at the Club, the photographs did the rounds." He added as he heartily shook the young agent's hand.

"Thank you, but they were just a few snaps, I mean neither Catherine or myself wanted any fuss," replied Reid.

"Of course not, she's not the kind of woman to like showy ceremony is she. Your father said it was so unexpected and was delighted that you both wanted him there."

"Of course we wanted Dad there; Catherine gets on really well with him."

"Oh, I know, when ever she's in Washington and he's free, he takes her to the Club, even if its for a quick tea. Of course, at first it set the tongues wagging with speculation, until he told us that the young lady was his son's partner!"

"Yes, I've heard Catherine's side of this, I think they both enjoyed the speculation until General Larson plucked up the courage to go over,"

"Only because his wife would have interrogated him when he got home and he'd have been in trouble if he couldn't provide the answers," the Director gleefully confided.

"Well, must get on, give your wife our best wishes," the Director said as he made his way to the elevators.

Hotch had the witnessed the scene and before the others could recover, from the unusually friendly exchanges between a junior agent and the top man, he said, "Congratulations on your marriage, Spencer. You had better have bought in some photos or Garcia is going to be impossible,"

"Yeah, but they're only snaps…it was just the legalisation of a partnership, you know just immediate family," he said as he looked into his satchel for the envelope.

He suddenly found a crowd of people around him eager to see what was so special about this woman and to try and understand why the Director had shown so much interest. It had not escaped anyone's notice that the Director obviously knew Reid's father but the young agent never spoke about his family. Emily was not the only person who wondered about the father because she knew about the very exclusive Washington Club that they had been talking about. It seemed that she had underestimated Reid's connections and wondered if Strauss had taken these into account while plotting her own moves.

Reid, placed several snaps on a desk, This is Catherine and the little girl is her niece, Lucy, she had to be the flower girl or the world would have come to an end," said Reid and several parents nodded in understanding. In the picture, a beaming little blond child about 4 years old, in a bright red dress, stood between a smartly suited Reid and Catherine. The bride was wearing a gentian blue dress with a matching embroidered jacket. The team had only seen her in the lecture footage of the previous case. Hotch, who had met her, thought who ever had taken these photographs had captured the happiness of the couple and their family members perfectly. There was none of the staged posing and false smiles; everyone looked totally relaxed.

"This is my Dad and he's holding, the other brother's daughter, Daisy," he said as he passed the photo along. It showed a little blond haired girl aged about 18 months, dressed in a pretty floral patterned dress clutching a bright pink dahlia.

"Aren't you like your Dad," said Garcia, capturing the sentiment of those assembled. Reid just nodded and smiled and went onto the next picture.

"Here are Marcus and his wife MaryAnne, and that is their son, Ben, we see a lot of them because he's a doctor at the Richmond hospital, and the nearest brother in age to Catherine." Both parents were of a similar height and build, broad and athletic looking with friendly open faces and blond hair. The agents could all see the similarity between this group and the flower girl.

"Now this photo shows Daniel and Lindy, who are Daisy's parents. They are doctors in Dover, Delaware. We were fortunate because they were not working that weekend. The eldest brother, Charles and his wife, Laura, were on call back in Montana but we went up to see them for a few days." Daniel was like his younger bother, but Laura was a tall, black haired, olive skinned woman, a total contrast to MaryAnne.

"What do they do?" Emily asked.

"Charles is a clinical psychiatrist and Laura is a cardiologist,"

"Wow, a family of doctors, was Catherine expected to be a doctor too? Garcia probed.

"She always says that her parents were disappointed that she didn't go into medicine, but she is happy in her rarefied field," replied Reid evenly.

"What's Catherine do?" Anderson asked, he was intrigued as to who had attracted the young man's attention.

"She's an expert in cuneiform writing and ancient civilisations," answered Reid, knowing that would stop a lot of delving into his wife's background.

"This is Bob, the judge who married us,"

"That's Robert Norton-Holmes," said Hotch, recognising a member of the Virginian Supreme Court.

"Yeah, we use the same stables and often ride with Bob and Helen," explained Reid, who suddenly realised that there were people in the room who were having to revise their knowledge of the quiet man who worked amongst them. The Director had said quite a lot and Reid concluded that it was deliberate, but he didn't know why. Spencer Reid was not a political animal and he hoped he was not going to be drawn into something he didn't understand.

"Here's my father again with Lucy and Daisy: Lucy has adopted Dad as her grandfather because that generation is dead in their families," he smiled, affectionately remembering how his Dad thought it was a wonderful idea. It had brought back good memories of doing things with his father when he was a child.

"What does your Dad do?" Emily asked innocently, but Reid was alert and was prepared.

"Works at the Pentagon in security," he replied succinctly, if she persisted to narrow this down it would draw attention to her probing. But Reid also felt that if she started to ask questions within Pentagon circles he was sure that it would be dealt with appropriately.

"That's just a family group and this final picture are the Montana lot, Charles, Laura and their grown up sons and their families, I do know the names but I'm sure that by now you have the idea that Catherine comes from a large and happy family."

"OK everyone, it's back to work, I want to see the team at 9:15 in the conference room. Reid, I want to see you in my office now," Hotch turned, suddenly the leader of the unit.

"Anyone seen Gideon?" asked J.J.

"No," said Anderson, as he turned to go back to his desk. Garcia stopped a moment to think but shook her head, before continuing thoughtfully to her office.

Reid put his photographs away and sprang up the stairs and through Hotch's open door. He had no idea why his boss wanted to see him alone, he thought that it might be another drugs test.

"Close the door, Reid," Hotch said as the agent entered. Spencer was now very alert because Hotch had that quiet serious air about him and Spencer momentarily wondered what he had done wrong.

Hotch indicated a large comfortable chair and took the companion chair opposite. Spencer thought that this was not a disciplinary matter then, otherwise it would have been the more formal chair before the desk. Spencer was puzzled and must have shown this in his features.

"It's all right, you've not done anything wrong, but I wanted to talk to you alone before the team meeting," the older man re-assured, reading Spencer's demeanour, "The Director came to see me this morning to tell me that after we had left for our leave, Gideon had gone to see him. They had a long talk but the upshot is that Gideon has taken early retirement. He only had another year to go anyway, but we all know he has been having a difficult time recently."

Reid listened carefully, the words came as no surprise, but he was concerned about his mentor.

"Did he say what he was going to do?"

"Stephen had been to see him that weekend you were working on the Smith case. Stephen has taken a position at McGill and is trying to find a more permanent place to live in Montreal. He asked his Dad to join him and help him find a new home."

Spencer nodded in understanding; since Gideon had re-established his relationship with his son, he had begun to step back from Reid. He understood all of this, and in fact felt that it was a far healthier work relationship not to be a substitute son. Reid had always managed to find someone to look up to as a father figure after his own father had left. However, he also knew no one could match the relationship he had had with his real father, and was thankful that it was now once more a pleasure in both their lives.

"I'm glad Stephen is going to be keeping an eye on Gideon and that he has a specific task to occupy him. I'm sure that he will enjoy Montreal, the Canadian wildlife is fantastic. He'll enjoy the bird life," said Spencer, but privately he hoped that Stephen had been honest with his father about his real reasons for moving to Montreal, where Joe was already working. Joe was a nice guy, but he and Stephen had kept their relationship very discreet. Stephen was afraid that Gideon would not accept that his only child was not going to have the family Gideon would have liked. Spencer had known Joe from his Princeton days, but when Joe heard about his move to the BAU, he had begged Spencer not to say anything to Stephen's father. Spencer had kept his promise. Over the years, he wondered if Gideon's estrangement with Stephen was caused by the fact that his only child was a homosexual.

"I didn't realise that you knew Canada?" enquired Hotch; there was quite a lot he didn't know about Spencer Reid.

"I went to a couple of conferences in Canada; one was at McGill, it's a nice friendly place, and there is lots to do in Canada. I think sometimes we Americans believe that we are the centre of the world, but Canada has a lot of culture too."

Hotch smiled, he knew that Reid would understand Gideon's actions especially choosing to slip away without any fuss.

The young man's higher pitched voice broke into his thoughts, "So he cleared his room ready for his replacement last week?"

"Yes, but he left two letters, one for me and the other for you, with the Director. I thought you would prefer that it was not known and I'll leave you here alone to read it before the meeting. I don't know what is in it, mine was personal but I do know how to contact him if need be. He thought a lot of you, Spencer, and he was so proud that you caught David Smith. I think it made it easier for him because you are now a respected member of the team in your own right." Hotch confided.

"Yes, it's all right Hotch, I think he has made the best decision for himself and the team,"

Hotch nodded and rose, he went to his desk and picked up a plain white envelope, in a scrawling hand was written his name in black ink, not in biro or felt tip, but with an old fashioned nibbed pen. Hotch walked over to Reid and handed the sealed envelope to him.

"You can stay here until the meeting, "Hotch said and quietly left, closing the office door behind him.

Hotch walked into the conference room at 9:15 precisely. The team had all assembled, each he noticed, with a mug of coffee and eager faces, even Reid, although Hotch felt sure that Reid had not said a word about Gideon to the others.

"Thank you for all being prompt. I wanted the team to hear this news first before a general statement is released at midday," said Hotch, watching with satisfaction as they sat up. Morgan and Emily particularly looked both perplexed yet alert at his words.

"The Director came to see me this morning to tell me that Gideon has taken early retirement and has already cleared his office. We are going to have a temporary placement until another senior profiler is appointed to the team. At the moment it has not been decided who is to replace Gideon. However, the Director has managed to persuade a very experienced psychologist and profiler from the Northwest division to temporarily fill the vacancy. He has already moved his things into the office and will be here at 10:00 to meet everyone," Hotch scanned the wide-eyed faces as he spoke, even Reid played his part, not letting on about their previous conversation.

Hotch continued, " Charles Hilton, likes to be called Hilton, even his wife calls him Hilton!" Hotch couldn't stop the smile that tweaked at his mouth as he wondered how Quantico would cope with Betsy Hilton.

"You know this guy?" interrupted Morgan, eager to build a picture before he entered the team dynamics.

"Yes, Hilton is a very good psych, he was a fighter pilot in the air force and is dreadful to fly with…he's a back seat pilot and you have to keep him out of the cockpit. He has been happily married for over 30 years, has 3 daughters the youngest is studying at Georgetown, and the eldest is married with children and lives in Westchester, New York. The middle one is studying medicine at John Hopkins; so I'm sure you can understand that his wife is going to take this opportunity to visit their daughters.

I worked a few cases with him when I was at the Seattle office. He's very good, but very different to Gideon. He and I share the same dress sense," he said as he looked at Morgan and Reid. "He does a lot of the psych evaluations for candidates up before the promotions board in the Northwest and he is very good at interviewing suspects. Hilton doesn't like travelling to far from home because he values his family life, so this really is a favour for the Director. I expect that he will be with us for a couple of months or so. Any questions?" Hotch said as he scanned the table of faces.

"Is Gideon OK, I mean he left really quietly and he's not been himself since the Breitkopf case?"

asked the caring J.J.

"He has gone to join his son in Canada; he's going to be OK," assured Hotch, gratified that J.J. had spoken for them all.

Hotch waited a few more seconds but there were no signs of any other comments, "Then that's all; get back to the usual workload of profiles and I'll come round with Hilton and introduce him to you individually later."

The group got up and went quietly to their workstations, each wrapped in their own memories of the former senior profiler. However, at that moment none of them wanted to express them or their own opinions of his departure. Morgan glanced at Reid as he set about his work; he didn't seem too surprised or upset by the news and wondered if Gideon had been in contact with him during the previous week. Morgan was still trying to get his head round the fact that Reid had married. Morgan was beginning to realise that the youngest of them had a completely secretive life outside the BAU and one that was obviously firmly inter-woven with his wife's family.

Morgan smiled at the memory of the photographs that had recorded such a happy and close knit family event. He was pleased that the kid was obviously seeing his Dad but it was strange he had never before mentioned him. Then there was the Director who also knew Reid's father. It had been a weird morning so far. Morgan had noticed Emily giving Reid furtive looks since the Director had spoken to him this morning. He shook his head and tried to concentrate upon the file before him.

Hilton had slipped quietly into Hotch's office just before 10 a.m. He had a brief chat with Hotch before Hotch took him around the department and introduced him to all the staff. Over coffee and lunch most of the staff expressed a uniform belief that Hilton came across as very even-tempered and friendly. For the team, the introduction was also a time when Hilton told them individually when he would speak to them in his office that afternoon.

During the lunch hour, the team had assembled in nearby café for a chat before the afternoon encounters.

"Well, what do you think, Morgan?" asked Emily who was feeling very unsettled by the morning's events, "I mean is it the norm for the incoming senior to interview us individually?" she clarified.

"When Hotch took over he did, it was just a friendly chat, you know trying to put some flesh of individuality on the basic info in our personal files," replied Morgan, attacking his steak with side salad.

"He seemed quite nice," said J.J. evenly, but she was puzzled by the hint of apprehension in Emily.

"How about you Spencer, you've been very quiet about Gideon's going, are you blaming yourself?" probed Emily, looking hard at Reid.

Reid finished chewing on his mouthful of salad, giving himself a little more time to consider a reply. He was aware of the unspoken belief, within the department, that his success in capturing David Smith had forced Gideon out, or that the upper echelons had used it as an excuse to get rid of the older man.

"I think that Gideon has made the best decision for himself because he was very upset after Sarah's death and it was affecting his work. Going to be with his son is the most sensible thing for him, because he has been suffering with depression for some time, and the work was just taking too much of a toll. Frank Breitkopf was the final straw; it was just a matter of time before he retired. I'm sure that he felt that leaving while the BAU was basking in the light of a successful case was the ideal time," he replied thoughtfully.

J.J. smiled re-assuringly at him, but Emily still pressed on, "What about his replacement?"

Spencer shrugged non-committally, "Seemed all right, but I'll wait to pass judgement until after I've seen him this afternoon."

At 2 p.m. J.J. went to see Hilton. It seemed strange to enter the once familiar office but now it had all been changed round. J.J. couldn't stop herself from glancing towards the cupboard top that had once held Gideon's treasured photograph display of his successes. It had been replaced by a coffee maker, mini fridge and a stack of wide brimmed cobalt blue stoneware cups and saucers.

"Help yourself to coffee," Hilton said as he sat in the easy chair, placing his own coffee on the low table before him.

"Thanks," J.J. appreciated the few extra minutes to acclimatise to the changes. When ready she joined him, sitting in the other chair, positioned opposite the new man.

He watched her with friendly hazel eyes, he had a tanned clean shaven face, his iron grey hair had a short cut; he reminded her of her ex-army uncle in the preciseness about his appearance which was mirrored in his smart charcoal suit. He wore a plain white shirt and navy tie; he was undoubtedly every inch the public's idea of a clean cut F.B.I. man.

"So, what did you do with your leave?"

J.J. smiled automatically and preceded to tell him about decorating which lead into discussing her relationship with Simon. Suddenly, she found herself talking about what had happened in the Henkel case. The conversation flowed easily and her 40 minutes passed quickly and she felt the whole experience had been quite pleasant because Hilton had also talked a little about his family.

Penelope Garcia was next; she was very apprehensive remembering her early experiences with Jason Gideon. Hilton let her settle in the chair like J.J. and began in a very unexpected way.

"I'm going to admit that computers are not my expertise so long as you provide the information I need quickly and accurately then we'll get along just fine."

Garcia beamed at him; she knew that she was the best.

"How are you feeling after all this traumatic year for the team?" Hilton asked in a gentle voice as he searched her face for the truth.

Garcia was hesitant at first, people in the department tended to take her role for granted but she did care, in fact she cared deeply about everyone in the BAU: she was naturally a mother hen.

Garcia found that her words were no longer hidden among pet names and sugary terms, she spoke plainly to this gentle man before her. She talked about how her little room was full of colour because of the darkness of the information and images that she dealt with. Garcia couldn't quite remember how she had got on to the topic of her Neville, but she found herself pouring out details of the things they did together.

"I am so pleased that you have someone to appreciate your loving nature," Hilton said smiling at this ebullient woman before him, "And your Mom and Stepfather have met him?"

"Oh yeah, he gets on really well with my family. He and my Dad, I call my Stepfather Dad because he's been more of a Dad than my biological one," Hilton nodded in understanding, "anyway, Nev and Dad are speed chess fanatics…the winner buys the beers!"

"Do you still have counselling?" the man gently asked.

"No, I'm fine now. I've got a good new Dad and he's been great to me right from the start and treats me the same as my half brothers."

"Good, your Mom was very sensible and got you both out of that home and prosecuted the bastard."

"Yeah, so many women don't believe their kids when it happens, but after I plucked up the courage to tell her, my Mom was fantastic and did all she could for me. I counsel other abuse survivors once a week. I really feel blessed that Mom found someone else who loves her and respects me. My Dad even asked the child psychologists how best to handle the situation with me, what more could I have asked for after what my real father had done."

"I'm delighted to hear that your are able to help others, and that you have such a warm and loving family life now," said Hilton, he thought that Hotch had a little gem in this caring and loyal woman.

Emily stretched out her long legs to ease the tension she felt as she sat in the easy chair opposite this inscrutable man. She had been unable to concentrate on her work since their initial introduction and now she wanted to be anywhere but in this office.

"Well Emily," he mildly began, "how do you like working for the BAU?"

"It's very hard work but it is very satisfying,"

"So you have no regrets?" he pressed.

"No, why should I… I knew it was not an easy placement,"

"So who is pulling your strings, Emily, because you were put in this department when there were far more experienced and deserving agents above you?" he softly probed, watching her with steady eyes.

Emily was speechless, she had not expected such a direct question and she was unsure how to answer even if she could find her voice. Unusually for Emily Prentiss her air of confidence had vanished leaving her exposed in a very weak position. She felt the palms of her hands moisten and had to consciously breathe evenly as she felt her heart quicken.

"I was not aware that I had pulled any strings or…"

"Come now, even I heard up in North Dakota that you wanted the BAU. You were talking to all the people you thought could influence the selection. Now tell me is having this position worth all that effort because those sort of people usually expect payback sooner or later?"

Emily felt the pressure but she was going to fight to keep what she thought was rightfully hers, "Are you implying that I have not pulled my weight with this team in any way?" she challenged.

"No, I'm saying that you used unfair methods to get here and usually that has a price tag, I want to know that every member of this team is loyally behind its senior agents because I expect 100 per cent trust. If I find that you can't be trusted I will let it be known in wider circles than your parents socialise in, so watch your step. That's all, Prentiss, please go and send in Morgan."

Emily Prentiss rose feeling very shaky as she left the room; she tried to compose herself as she made her way to the lower level.

"Your turn, Morgan," she said as normally as she could but her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.

"Hey, you OK?" Morgan asked with concern. He wondered what had happened in that room for the normally cool and confident Emily to look so pale and shaken.

"Yeah, sure, I need the ladies room," and turned away quickly to escape the scrutiny of her colleagues.

"You see that, Reid?"

"Yeah, you'd better go, you know that these ex-forces types don't like to be kept waiting," said Reid, he didn't want to share his thoughts about Emily with Morgan. He remembered how he'd told Hotch that she worked hard, but he'd not liked how she had just appeared, and there was something that didn't feel right about today.

Morgan bounded into the room; like the others before, he got his own coffee and sank into the chair opposite Hilton.

"What did you say to Emily…she looked upset," he boldly stated.

"What is said in this room is private between me and the person sitting in that chair," Hilton firmly replied. Morgan felt he had crossed an invisible line of acceptable behaviour. There was something about this tiny dapper man that commanded respect and right now Morgan was the sullen teenager before the School Principal. Hilton calmly eyed him, letting him regain his temper and with it hopefully his good sense.

"So," Hilton finally said, "What do you do in your spare time?"

"I work out regularly in the gym, I walk my dog, I like to socialise…" he put on his best charming smile, but Hilton merely raised a black eyebrow quizzically.

"Any stable relationship?"

"Well, you know how it is with the job," Morgan replied, still trying to keep his charm into play.

"All too well. The most stable agents are the ones who seek out a stable partner, and then work hard at it, so they have some normality of a home life outside the stress of the job," Hilton countered. The psychologist saw that a flash of anger appeared momentarily in the man's dark eyes and his jaw set ready to defend himself.

"Look, I go to places to try and find a partner. I'm a social guy; I like parties and bars and dancing, I play tennis and I swim. Even if I meet a nice woman the demands of this place breaks it."

"Other agents manage it," Hilton replied, "some even manage to have children, now that really gives you something outside the job. Perhaps you're not looking in the right place?"

Morgan felt very small under the scrutiny. Suddenly, Hilton changed tack, "What's all that on your belt…makes you look like Batman. My grandson's got a belt like that with his Batman costume."

Morgan felt embarrassment flood through him, he hadn't felt so belittled in years.

"You're a profiler, get rid of it or transfer out," Hilton commanded in a tone that allowed for no argument, "I want to see you in a shirt and tie tomorrow, none of this tee shirt or clingy jumper rubbish. You're 36, start to dress and act like it."

"Is there anything else?" Morgan asked, wondering if he could hold his temper in before he got busted for hitting a senior agent.

"Yes," said Hilton calmly, " I have noticed in your personal file that Hotch has had to speak to you on numerous occasions about your teasing of Reid which borders on bullying. Let's get this clear shall we, I will not tolerate such behaviour on my watch. You are not a college jock so stop it or get out, this is the F.B.I. not a Fraternity House." Morgan couldn't believe what had just been said but he realised that with this man he had to sharpen up his act or he'd loose the position he enjoyed.

"That's all, Morgan, send in Reid would you."

Morgan removed himself from the humiliation of the room as fast as he could, but as he made his way back to his desk he thought that the resident genius was probably in for an uncomfortable time himself. There was his hair for a start and his dress sense was definitely individual, he was comforted by the thought that Reid was probably going to get as much of a shock as he had experienced.

"Your turn," he grinned to Reid, hoping that he had not given any thing away of his dressing down.

Reid got up and walked up the steps to the senior psych's room. He didn't know what had been happening but J.J. and Garcia had returned quite happily from their interviews, whereas Emily and Morgan were tense and in Emily's case, definitely worried.

Reid entered the room in his usual diffident way; he scanned the room like the previous interviewees.

"Help yourself to coffee," Hilton said gesturing to the coffee maker.

"Thanks, I probably drink far too much, the medical orderlies who do my drug tests say they have bets on the caffeine levels," said Reid conversationally, as he poured a cup and then loaded it with at least 3 spoonfuls of sugar before sitting down.

"Are you getting annoyed with all the extra tests?" Hilton asked, pleased that this young man had the confidence to raise the issue first.

"It's just the rules and you know how sensitive the Bureau is over drugs. I'd not willing take drugs but I have to prove that I'm now totally clean. Hotch is very sensitive to the extra testing, he always seems to send me on an errand so the rest of the department don't have to know."

"Would you mind if they did?"

"Look it's the rules, everyone here knows I was kidnapped and tortured, some may know that I was drugged. Actually no one outside the team has ever asked me about that time and I have not openly spoken about it within the department. When I first returned to work, everyone was watching me. It made me feel even more anxious about my position and if I could still do my job. I wasn't the easiest person when I returned; I snapped at Emily a few times but we're OK now."

"So you feel you've come through the Post Traumatic Stress?" Hilton pressed gently, beginning to get a measure of the genius he'd heard so much about.

"I'd be a fool if I thought I had," Spencer replied, "I still have the odd flash back; they are totally unpredictable. But I'm sleeping better, eating normally now and I believe I'm more like my old self…I mean more even tempered, do you understand?" asked Reid wanting to know that this new man, however temporary, understood that he was well on the mend.

Hilton nodded, "Yes, I do, I've been there. I was shot down on a secret mission and tortured. I still get the odd nightmare 30 years on and if I'm in a plane during a thunderstorm…lets just say that I need distracting. I was shot down in a thunderstorm and I tend to get very unsettled. I can feel a rising panic: pulse starts to race, I can perspire buckets while colleagues try to distract me with chess or cards. You have to have been under such extreme duress to understand that no matter how happily normal we have made our lives since: memory is a bitch in these matters."

Reid nodded with understanding and felt that Hilton had suddenly become more human rather than just a name with a considerable reputation.

"How do you feel about your mentor's departure?"

Reid had been expecting this question, he sat quietly for a few moments wondering about all the glances the BAU had been sending his way since the announcement. Hilton watched quietly assessing him, he was far more interesting that the personal assessments of Gideon or Hotch and Arthur, his chosen psych., all put together.

"I told Hotch some months ago now, that I thought Gideon was slipping, you know, he was never quite the same after the Boston bombings. He threw himself into every case but sometimes he didn't pick up on the things that were sometimes going on in the group dynamics, especially after the Randall Garner case. I felt at times he was battling with his own demons, which were dragging him into depression, but I could have got it all wrong, after all I'm not a senior psych." explained Reid and wondered if he had said too much and sounded disloyal towards Gideon.

Hilton merely nodded sagely before saying, "Hotch told me that you picked up on Elle but she didn't respond to your approach,"

"Yeah, you know the team sees me as the kid, Elle was no different."

"Of course they do, because you let them," countered the older man, "You were 21, a genius with 3 PhDs, with a high intelligence quotient, it's probably off the scale because you're a polymath who deliberately underachieved in intelligence tests to make your life a little easier. You are also a sensitive, which is why you are good at this work. As an empathetic person, you use that skill to think yourself into the mind of the unsub and the victim. However, you use that skill every day to also make people feel comfortable around you, because you are genuinely modest about your natural abilities and you don't want to lord it over anyone. You are a shy person, so you played up that role and even perfected the occasional nervous stutter in the early years. Your youthful looks were very useful, so you emphasised this boyishness in your dress and the schoolboy haircuts. Gradually, as people got used to you, your dress has become more appropriate to you age and your hair has got longer. Perhaps a little too long," Hilton said firmly but Reid didn't react, he just listened to this man's observations.

"I must say that you really are an accomplished actor, you fooled Gideon a lot of the time,"

"Gideon saw what he wanted to see," Spencer interjected, "He was estranged from his own son, so I became a substitute until he re-established his relationship with Stephen. Then he stepped back and it became a more normal work relationship; I was given more tasks with other team members."

"You didn't mind his withdrawal?"

"Of course not. I think I actually helped him, particularly after the first depressive break. It helped him get back into the team to still have the boy wonder to mentor. I have always managed during my growing up to find mentors to make up for the physical absence of my own father. They all seemed to have enjoyed the experience of helping me at specific points in my career, but I've outgrown that now. I've actually re-established my relationship with my own father since the Henkel case. Gideon told me that my Dad had contacted him to see that I was OK and he passed on his number in case I wanted to pursue it further."

"Good, what does he do?" Hilton was fascinated by this man and how he had managed to manipulate people into the mentoring role.

"He's never specifically said, I was told that he is a cryptographer for government security,"

Hilton looked into the large puppy dog eyes; he had seen no deception in this agent since he had entered the room. Hilton had seen those eyes before and he was wise enough not to probe any further. He chose to change the subject.

"Hotch tells me that you have married Catherine Fox,"

Spencer beamed his naturally radiant smile, "Yeah, we've known each other for 2 years and she was there for me over the PTSD."

Hilton smiled broadly in return, "I was trained by her father, interned with him at St. Peter's in Helena, Montana… you would have liked him, Catherine's supposed to be the most like him."

"So you know Catherine?"

"I know her eldest brother, Charles, best because he works at the same hospital in Montana. I did meet Catherine, but that was before she left to study in England…she must have been around 18. She reminded me of her mother's family, the Lindstroms. You met any of the Aunts?"

"Yeah, we spent a few days up in Helena, after we married, to meet the rest of the family," Reid said with a smile, remembering the assortment of very strong characters; the Lindstrom Aunts were all unmarried and a little eccentric but very friendly.

"Never thought Bernard Fox would marry a Lindstrom, he'd been a widower with those 3 sons for 8 years before he started dating Elise…but they seemed happy enough," Hilton confided and seemed lost in thought for a few seconds before continuing,

"Well Hotch thinks highly of Catherine and her affect on you, so don't screw up!" Hilton said.

"No intentions of deliberately doing so. I know what an anchor I go home to," defended Reid.

"Good because there are going to be some changes round here and you're going to stop coasting," Hilton firmly but quietly said. Reid felt his world shift and wobble; he'd been keeping his head down working quietly since arriving at Quantico, but Hilton had rumbled him.

"I don't care what Gideon allowed you to get away with so that you could fit into the team without upsetting the dynamics. You're a genius. Hotch and I need you working up to speed, not taking a backseat. Forget about upsetting the egos of other team members. You're brilliant: you have just caught the serial killer, David Smith. Shelve the excessive modesty, we need the mind that got Smith working at full strength in the team. I want you walking in step with me, not two steps behind in deference. I'm not afraid to work alongside a genius, in fact, it's an honour that we have you in this department and we should be using you properly.

You are 26, not a teenager, I want to see you acting your age and in accordance to your true ability. I don't mind you doing your diffident act to get information or a confession but Hotch and I expect to see the experienced and gifted profiler that you are. You can start by dressing for that role, and forget about upsetting your colleagues; if they can't cope with your true abilities then we don't want them here. Our work is far more important than their fragile egos. In a few years time you will be in my place; you are going to have to assess people who are older than you, so start by showing them that you are worthy of their trust in your ability."

Reid breathed out slowly, Hilton had seen right through his act but every thing he had said was the truth. Coasting had brought a certain acceptance but not a real respect for his true ability.

"Go on, I've said enough for now,"

Spencer Reid rose quietly and opened the door to leave, as he walked out Hilton shouted after him, "And get your hair cut,"

Reid turned in a flash and shouted back, "It's within regulation length, if you've a problem with it take it up with Catherine because she's my hairdresser," The bullpen was momentarily stunned by the interchange. Hotch had been talking to Morgan at the time. Morgan couldn't believe that the normally quiet Reid had shot back a reply to the demanding Hilton. The assembled work force was expecting Hilton to respond with a caution for insubordination, but they were surprised to hear hearty laughter coming from the office.

Reid drew himself up to his full height, and walked back to his desk with the air of confidence that Hotch had come to know outside the work place.

"Jeez," said Morgan softly, to Hotch, "what the hell happened in there?"

"Oh, I think Hilton's told Reid to act his age," he replied, and gave the young agent a slight nod of amused encouragement as they passed at the bottom of the stairs. By the top of the steps, Hotch heard Reid's voice in a commanding no nonsense tone take control of the situation by his desk.

"Morgan, I know I had only two files before going to see Hilton, I'm not doing your work because you've been flirting with the new clerical assistant. I've got a wife to go home to and I'm leaving here as soon as I've finished my two profiles,"

Hotch paused to see how Morgan would react but the older agent took the rebuke meekly. Hotch also heard the senior clerical assistant, Jodie, mutter, "He deserved that," and several other agents smiled into their work. The Unit Chief thought that having Hilton around for a few weeks was going to be interesting, but at least he trusted him at his back.

Two hours later in an exclusive club in Washington, the Director of the F.B.I. made his way towards a comfortable looking high backed leather chair. He joined another man, in a similar chair, who was drinking coffee as he read the 'Washington Post'.

The Director ordered his own coffee from the discreet waiter as he sat down. Once he was sure that they could not be overheard he said, "Sorry I'm late, Will, do you have any thing?"

The tall thin man with familiar brown eyes took a sip of his coffee before casually replying,

"There has been a lot of traffic between Strauss and Prentiss. Prentiss could be pulled down with her,"

"Do you think Prentiss knows what Strauss is involved in?"

"No, but she might get tainted by association," Will said softly.

"Well, Helen wanted us to go to the Hamptons…" said the Director smoothly, as his coffee arrived. No one in the room thought there was anything unusual in two old friends having a drink of coffee together, before travelling to their respective homes.


	9. Chapter 9

Conversations 9: Letting Go 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended: I have just borrowed characters and added a few of my own.**

It had been a quiet week with the team kept busy with work at Quantico. The team had shared the profiling requests and now both Hotch and Hilton had a pile to look over and assess a random selection. It was normal procedure to keep profiling skills honed and these random checks were used for personal assessments. None of this really worried the agents, it was their work and they all felt confident about their skills. But the consensus of the department was that Hilton would make sure that he looked over all the agents' profiles because it was one way of assessing their strengths and weaknesses.

Emily Prentiss took her last file into Hilton's office and placed it on the stack leaning against the desk. There must have been 40 files piled on the floor and wondered if Hilton would laboriously go through every one, or just select an example from each agent. Emily felt tired and tense and for the first time, since joining the F.B.I., lacked confidence in her work. She had always succeeded at everything she had turned to. Nothing had defeated her at school or university; hers had been a charmed life until now. She had felt that the move to Quantico was the natural step in her career and that her experiences in the Bureau formed the perfect foundation for a BAU placement. However, these past few weeks were proving to be a nightmare, especially since the arrival of Hilton; he had really shaken things up since his first day. Emily was not the only one feeling some pressure from the new man.

Morgan had been particularly diligent after the first day, not wanting to draw attention to anything else that Hilton could pounce upon. The department noticed that since Hilton's arrival, both Morgan and Reid had changed their appearance. Morgan looked dashingly elegant in a light grey suit but he added a splash of colour with his plain dark ties which co-ordinated with the pastel shirts. Reid no longer slouched away his full height and gone were the patterned vests or thick woolly cardigans. The department were adjusting to seeing him in smart slacks, plain shirts and, if cold, a plain cashmere v necked sweater or vest. But the casual observer was usually struck by the flamboyant ties, which usually accompanied the sober attire. These were always made of silk and complimented perfectly the colours that he was wearing, but the patterns and colours were usually striking. It didn't take long for a new nickname to take hold: the Prof.

Emily had slipped into the empty conference room to escape the few staff clearing their desks in the bullpen. Prentiss was not normally so evasive but this week she just didn't feel herself. She sat in a chair at the round table and tried to relax before driving home. Emily reasoned with herself that it was because she didn't want to hit the tail end of the commuter traffic, but she was actually just too tense and wanted to try and relax a bit in this quiet oasis. She began to think about the pleasant things she had done in New York the previous week, but then it only brought her back to her present predicament. Prentiss knew Hilton did not trust her and wondered what the rest of the team thought of her.

"Emily…Emily," he said, but she felt paralysed for the moment. Then he reached out and gently touched her arm that had been casually resting on the table; it seemed to break the spell.

"Emily, are you all right?" he said again. Emily had not noticed that he had sat down in the next chair and was scrutinising her.

She mentally shook herself, this was not Hilton's penetrating gaze but the far more compassionate one of Spencer Reid. She thought once again what beautiful eyes this man had; he seemed so young but also conversely ancient in his knowledge. Spencer was so aptly named the Prof now, he would not be out of place striding the corridors of Harvard, but he had experienced far more in his short life than any short sighted dry academic.

"Yes…sorry, yes," she stumbled, but those large expressive brown eyes mirrored their owners concern.

Spencer shyly removed his hand and Emily felt bereft of the humanity of his touch. He waited watching her try to steady herself into her normal confident composure, but Emily was failing to find her normality.

"What's wrong, Emily?" his voice softly soothed her jangled nerves, "This is more than Hilton coming to the department."

She wanted to speak, to trust someone with the pressures she was feeling. Her throat constricted and it felt as if there was physically an obstacle in her windpipe. She was caught in the warmth of his eyes and felt her own usual glacial exterior melt revealing the very sensitive inner Emily that she hid from the world. Emily was an expert at hiding this vulnerability. She had learnt at an early age that her parents had wanted a son, and she had tried to make up for their disappointment by having the qualities she perceived other adults valued in their boys. She excelled in sports and was academically a high achiever, and in her career, she set herself goals and strove zealously to achieve them. But Emily was not as ruthless as many career women in a man's world.

"I can see that you are very unhappy at the moment, you're been very tense since the Breitkopf case," Spencer quietly stated, his eyes never leaving her face.

Emily sensed an overwhelming wave of suffocating pressure surge through her; she felt tears well up and could not stop them trickling down her face. Emily was mortified. She hated to show such weakness, she'd never seen her mother cry; at that moment she just wanted the room to disappear and take her with it away from all of this.

He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. "It's all right, whatever it is. Perhaps, if you can tell me, we can get it all into perspective," he offered, and Emily shuddered at the unusual emotions that were raging through her uncontrollably at that moment. He reached into his trouser pocket with his other hand and brought out an old fashioned fine linen handkerchief, which he pressed into her hand.

"Take your time, it's clean," he said, indicating the linen in her hand. He sat back in the seat and waited patiently for her to gather the inner strength and reach a measure of calmness. Emily finally blew her nose a few times and took deep breaths to get the sobs under control. She felt very embarrassed by her outburst, but only found understanding in the eyes of the man who patiently waited for her.

Emily didn't know how long it took for her to feel that she could speak, but there was no pressure from Spencer. She found his quietness comforting and now understood why J.J. would sit next to him in companionable silence on the plane or in the car. Emily usually sat with the more extrovert Morgan and their banter made the journeys pass quickly, but she could not have imagined herself breaking with Morgan as she had obviously done with the youngest member of the team.

"Sorry," she finally whispered, "I don't normally loose it."

"There is nothing to apologise for, something has obviously happened to put you in such distress. I promise you that what is said inside this room will not be spoken of outside it," he assured, and Emily knew he was sincere. Spencer was a gentleman, it was perhaps an old fashioned concept these days but it was a quality that was entwined within his character.

She thought for a few moments wondering where to begin, but finally plunged in before she lost her nerve to share the burden that was weighing heavily on her conscience.

"After the Breitkopf case Strauss had me in her office, quite bluntly, she told me that it had been her influence that put me here and now she wanted payback," she drew breath and carefully watched Spencer's reaction. There was only an attentive look and no judgement of her statement, so she pressed on.

"Strauss wants to finish Hotch's career, she blames him for the team being at times out of control and sees us as reckless. She wants me to spy on the team or she'll ruin my career too," she finished, relieved that she had finally told someone.

"Do you believe we are reckless and out of control?" Spencer gently asked.

"No, I can only comment on what I have seen, but out in the field we have to make decisions which ordinarily might not be considered. You know what I mean, like when we let Breitkopf go so we could get the children back. Then, well you know Sarah's death…perhaps we should have been more helpful with the Maryland police but without Gideon we probably wouldn't have found Tracey Belle and…Well you see what I mean don't you, it's not a clear black and white decision."

"No, unfortunately we do not deal with normality and to an outsider some of the decisions we make must appear quite bizarre or later with hindsight…but that's why we have debriefings, to help us review out own actions, to see if things could have been done differently. But hindsight doesn't help when we have to make split second decisions, and then we have to be strong enough to live with the consequences," replied Spencer evenly and a companionable silence seemed to fill the room, helping to soothe Emily's overwrought emotions.

"Do you think Strauss is right about wanting to remove Hotch?" Reid suddenly asked.

"No, I think Hotch is a good team leader who tries to keep the team focused, but I think Gideon was a loose cannon at times," Emily replied honestly, hoping that he'd not be offended by her criticism of Gideon.

Spencer nodded in understanding, "Gideon was never the same after he lost his team with the Boston bombing. He didn't always react quickly enough to the problems of the team."

"He was wilfully negligent over you when you returned after the Henkel case," Emily firmly stated, and was surprised at the vehemence of her voice.

"That bothers you?" Spencer enquired.

"I got slapped down for pointing out certain things I noticed…I mean you were obviously suffering, you know with post traumatic stress, but he was ignoring your distress. I lost confidence in him over that…I mean you were his protégé and he treated you so…" she stopped, "Sorry, I think Hotch should have done something about it."

"Hotch thought Gideon was doing something because Gideon kept reassuring him that he had it under control. It's all right, I had Catherine and Arthur, my psch…and finally Hotch got to know what was going on and took a more active role." he soothed, "It all seems a long time ago now.

Does Strauss really have a hold over you?" Spencer suddenly asked, refocusing on her problem. A distant part of Emily registered that this man, who was 10 years her junior, was a very good psychologist.

"I wanted to move to the BAU. I'd worked 10 years in the mid-West and felt that this was where I wanted to be next. I let it be known, being the child of ambassadors that sort of networking is just natural, but it's the first time that I've had it turned against me."

"It was a bit naïve of you, considering your background. Personally, I've just let my genius status work for me and try to keep out of the under current of politics that runs through this organisation.

So, do you have any thoughts on what you are going to do especially as Hilton doesn't trust you?"

"You've noticed uh…" she said gloomily.

"You were pretty upset after your interview with him and you have been beavering away since on your work. You worked extremely hard when you first arrived here because Hotch had not chosen you and you had to prove yourself to him and the team. Unfortunately, Hilton has probably seen straight through you and he's waiting to see what you are going to do about the situation you have got yourself into," he said with a refreshing honesty.

"I don't want to be Strauss's pawn," she answered and felt a weight lift now that she had spoken it out loud.

Spencer nodded and added, "Then let go of the hold she has on you."

It seemed such a simple statement, but it stunned Emily in its simplicity, and wondered if she really understood what he meant by it. Spencer read the uncertainty in her demeanour.

"When I first returned to the unit, I questioned my existence here. I had faced death several times during the Hankel kidnap and it made me take stock of my life more than any of the other situations I'd been in. I knew I loved Catherine and that she was central to my life. I also questioned if I wanted to stay in the F.B.I. I'd sort of just let Gideon persuade me to come; it sounded an interesting line of work in which to apply my skills for the greater good. Anyway, Catherine and I discussed alternative careers if I chose to leave; it was very liberating. Sometimes we forget that there is a world outside the Bureau. "

"Like what?" asked the now fascinated Emily.

"I'm only 26 even now and with 3 PhDs, so there was the obvious choice of returning to academia in any of the three areas. If I hadn't have met Gideon, I was thinking of going to Med. School to use my psychology in mental health services and was toying with training as a psychiatrist. Then there was the music, I thought about teaching the lute."

"You're a lutenist!" and then her eyes fell on the long fingers and she felt foolish. Emily could imagine a stringed instrument, and one as difficult as a lute, would be a challenge for a genius.

He smiled but persisted, "So Emily, Strauss sees you has a career agent so think outside the confines of the Bureau's box. What could you do if you were not with the F.B.I.?"

She'd never seriously given it any thought before; she had thought it a prestigious organisation to work in and one that her parents would approve of.

Spencer broke the silence, "You have an M.A. in French 19th century literature, so you could teach French," he suggested.

"Yeah, but I'm also fluent in German, Spanish, Russian and Arabic."

"Excellent! So how could you use them?" Spencer encouraged.

"As a translator, at the U.N., for a company with interests or trading with these countries," she clarified and suddenly began to see the value of the exercise. Reid had given her a different perspective; Erin Strauss didn't own her. Emily had skills that would be welcome in other organisations. It was a simple exercise but it lifted her mood. Prentiss smiled at the man; she felt a new sense of hope surge through her.

"Now you know what you need to do," Spencer stated, bringing her back to the present.

Emily knew what she had to do but knowing and doing don't always come easily, "I don't think I know how to tell him?" she replied, as she felt her revived confidence begin to slip away.

"Emily, you have to tell Hotch; trust him and you will not be disappointed. At the moment you're not sleeping well because your conscience is telling you that you have to tell Hotch," Spencer said firmly. She couldn't deny his accurate assessment of her demise.

"Tell me what, Emily?" Hotch's deeper voice cut into their conversation and both agents visibly jumped. "Well?" he challenged, and then his face softened as he saw that she had been crying. He looked at Spencer, who met his eyes with a steadiness he had come to know, and he sensed that Reid had been helping Emily over some distress.

"Emily, I overheard Spencer say that you should trust me, I hope I am worthy of that trust, but I did not hear what went on before that. I know Spencer will keep his own counsel because he's probably promised you, so I have to rely on you trusting me. Would it be easier in my office?"

The woman looked to Spencer hoping to regain some of her fragile confidence, "You can trust Hotch, he will understand and you won't be disturbed in his office," Spencer assured, and silently berated himself for not closing the door when he had found Emily.

Emily nodded her thanks to Spencer, and gave him a weak smile as she gathered up her courage before facing her boss, " You're right, this should be said in your office."

Prentiss rose and walked out. Hotch gave Spencer a searching look, "Is she OK?" Hotch asked softly.

"Yeah, she's been under some pressure, but she's use to getting her own way," he replied, getting up and making his way to the door. "Catherine's picking me up tonight, she collected my car from the garage after its service,"

Hotch smiled, "You trust her to park here?" he teased.

"She'll be able to find an easy space this time in the evening," Spencer easily replied, and made his way down the stairs as Hotch entered his office and closed the door.

Half an hour later, Emily left Hotchner's office and made her way back to the bullpen. Spencer was at his desk reading his e-mails. Emily sat down and looked over to him, he looked up after sending a reply and smiled.

"Thank you," she said simply, and was rewarded with a radiant grin. Emily was beginning to realise that Spencer Reid had far greater depths than Morgan had dared to poke at. She didn't doubt that in a few years time, Reid would be a senior agent watching the dynamics of the team. That he was an excellent profiler was not in question, especially after he had caught David Smith, but she now had a respect for his personal integrity and the way he had gently helped her.

"Hi, Catherine!" he beamed, and Emily turned to looked at the women who had captured their genius.

"Hit any thing?" he teased.

"I did not!" she stated indignantly, and Emily couldn't stop the smile that swept across her face.

"Honestly, listening to you, anyone would think I'm always having accidents…Just because the family kept telling him their version of the time I swerved to avoid the bear…" she explained to Emily.

"Which lead to the sheriff swerving to avoid you and the park ranger swerving to avoid the sheriff…" continued Spencer gleefully.

"Wow, what really happened?" asked Garcia, who had appeared from her lair just as Catherine had arrived, " I'm Garcia…"she beamed.

"This is Emily," Spencer added, but felt he was suddenly superfluous as the invisible bonding of sisterhood swept the three women into a huddle near Garcia's room.

Spencer finished his e-mails and shut down his computer. In the background he could hear the women's laughter, it sounded good and was just what Emily needed at that moment.

"Thank you," said Hotch, he stood quietly beside Reid's desk, with his brief case in hand. Spencer merely nodded; both men trusted each other and it made life easier for themselves and the team. Reid did not know what Hotch was going to do about Strauss, but if Hotch left, Spencer knew that their unit chief had many paths open to him. Reid hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but Hotchner was a lawyer and the skills he had learnt in the F.B.I. were useful for other agencies. Spencer put on his own tailored wool jacket and picked up his leather satchel, which was still part of his attire, and made his way to the gaggle of laughing women.

"Goodnight, ladies," called Hotch as he passed, and flashed them a rare smile. Hotch was pleased that Catherine had made the effort to make an appearance at the office. She didn't like to interfere with Reid's work and kept deliberately in the background to keep their home life separate from work. Aaron Hotchner appreciated that his wife did exactly the same thing. Hayley tried to keep her distance unless it was an official function, but it was far easier for her with a young child.

As he drove home, Hotch thought over what Emily had told him. It was a typical Strauss move and suspected that it had been her who had told Karen Steyer about the case of the prostitutes being murdered in Washington. Hotch had upset Steyer because he would not fit into her agenda; perhaps Steyer was at the bottom of this move to get rid of him. He turned on to the freeway, the traffic was lighter at this time in the evening, and found it quite relaxing to just drive and unwind. He would ring Hilton later, after he'd played a little with Jack and eaten with Hayley. Hotch knew he could rely on Hilton at his back. As Aaron turned into the drive of his house he reflected that he trusted Reid too, and was pleased that Spencer was proving himself worthy of the trust and respect needed to one day be the leading psychologist of the team.

The front door opened and Jack appeared in Montana Mice pyjamas. Hayley smiled her greeting as Jack called, "Daddee! Look, mice!" as he pointed at his bright clothing, covered in the Mice characters from a familiar series of books.

"Mommy and Jack have been shopping," Hotch stated, he never told her that he knew the real identity of Amy Sequoia. He picked up his son and forgot about work for a few hours. Jack insisted that his Daddy look at the two new books they had bought.

Hayley handed them over as father and son sat on the couch together, "I got Amy Sequoia's latest…it's lovely about a bear called Solomon. There was a special offer on the first 'Montana Mice' story with half price pyjamas this week as a promotion," explained Hayley.

"Oh yeah, and Mommy likes the Montana Mice," replied Hotch.

Hayley grinned, "It's a bit too old for him at the moment but he likes looking at the pictures. That woman is so talented, there is so much detail in them. The bear book is for younger ones and Jack loves it so be prepared… you'll be saying it in your sleep!"

"Look Daddee!" Jack commanded and Hotch was swept away into the world of Solomon Bear. Hayley's prediction was spot on, Jack insisted on "'gain, Daddee!" six times and he now knew the words by heart. Fortunately, Jack was also slipping into sleep and he carried his precious son up the stairs to his little bed.

Meanwhile, there was a special late night meeting of men being held in a room in the Pentagon. This was a meeting dealing with matters that were far away from the gentle and loving actions within the Hotchner household.

"And you have managed to track these money transfers for the past 11 months," a balding giant asked the tall thin man opposite him.

"Yes, the information led us to an account in the Cayman Islands. I thought initially it was drugs money but then I followed the threads of where the money was coming from. There are 28 names involved, as you can see, some have influential positions in organisations. Some of the payments go back over 2 years. "

"Will, this is…Oh God, we have to handle this carefully; we have to be 100 per cent sure," another middle aged suited man said.

"I have personally checked these banking details, they are all correct, there is no mistake," the tall thin man, called Will, asserted with confidence.

" My New York office is compromised and Quantico, we have to be careful not to scare them. When we are ready to act, it must be a well co-ordinated sweep of the suspects so they cannot warn any of the others," said the Director of the F.B.I.

"We will need the utmost discretion," the giant said, "We are dealing with the judiciary and senators and congress…I just can't believe these names,"

"They are all being discreetly watched; we have to keep changing the teams so they don't get suspicious. We are relying mostly on electronic surveillance of their homes and places of work," said a quiet greying Afro-American.

"This must not get out to the media, it could bring down the government and our enemies would enjoy watching us squirm in the media spotlight…You can just imagine the headlines that could beam around the world!" the giant said.

"We must concentrate on gathering the evidence so they can not wriggle out of it. This is not as straight forward as it seems. There is secrecy for a reason and I don't want to jump to conclusions until I have solid proof. Some of these people are being paid to turn a blind eye; others blackmailed because they have been caught in compromising positions. I have only been able to follow these threads because a priest heard a dying man's confession and his conscience won over church ruling. We had to promise that we would never reveal his name, he would be ruined if it was ever known how we found out about these people," Will said calmly.

"Will's right, we must continue with our operations and be prepared to act within hours should the situation call for it," the Director said, "Now lets discuss the logistics of taking these people. I, for one, am going to need helicopter teams I can trust and it would be best not to use F.B.I. people to take into custody their own…"

The small group continued their deliberations well after Aaron Hotchner had fallen asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Conversations 10: Threads 

**By Helena Fallon**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended; I have merely borrowed the characters to play with a few of my own. All names of people and businesses are totally fictional.**

It was Labour Day, a rainy September day for the public holiday, but it was no holiday for the team because a child had been abducted in their state, that very morning around 8 o'clock. Lorien Kudyk had taken her bike to visit her friend a few blocks away in a pleasant leafy suburb of Richmond. It was a short ride, one that she had done many times, and the light traffic on these local roads gave many young cyclists self-confidence in their road skills. However, when Lorien didn't turn up, as expected for their planned breakfast, her friend Naomi had rung Lorien's house. Very quickly a worried mother and father had set off in their car on the route she would have taken. They had found her bicycle on the verge, near the entrance to a small playground, but there was no sign of Lorien and the frantic parents had rung the police.

The police response had been exemplary; it was quickly established that Lorien had not arrived at Naomi's home nor was there any sign of her within the local vicinity. The local radio and television stations went into action with a state-wide alert and Lorien's face was on every news flash. The public responded by keeping their own children off the streets. But for the Police an elderly lady, who had been opening her drapes, gave them a possible lead. Joan Lucas had seen a young girl in a starry cycle helmet talking to a tall thin blond woman, with a red setter type dog, across the street. A large silvery car had been parked near by and she was sure a man was sitting in the driver's seat, but she couldn't really see him. However, Joan said that she'd never seen the woman walking her dog in the neighbourhood before.

Thirty minutes later, and a jogger, Joshua Needham, rang in to report seeing the girl and a blond woman talking, outside the play area as he passed pounding his regular route at a similar time to Joan. The Richmond Police felt that their luck was holding as Joshua was sure it was a foreign car, possibly a Mercedes and part of it's number plate was 1004. Asked why he was so certain about this, he said that he played the violin badly but BWV 1004 was the catalogue number of one of Bach's partitas. Seeing the number sequence made him think of music when he passed the car. By the time the BAU arrived, the local force had something to show for nearly two hours work.

Hotch was all business, after the introductions, they all knew that this was the golden window of opportunity to maximise sightings and get the message out to the public. Larry Burrells was an experienced lead detective whom the team immediately liked for his professional manner and the way the incident room was running efficiently.

"We thankfully don't get many of these stranger abductions. We've ruled out the parents, the time line is too tight and there are witnesses to her leaving her road and two sightings with the blond woman and the dog. We're working on the car at the moment. We've a partial plate and cars make. The radio and T.V. stations are ready to broadcast any information we want to release. They've been doing news flashes every 15 minutes with Lorien's picture," he told the team, summing up the situation at that moment.

"Excellent, you've done everything you could to maximise the time," Hotch assured and glanced at his team, who had spread out since hearing the summary to talk to some of the police officers in the room. Reid and Emily were looking at the local map with the reference points of the girls' homes and where Lorien's bicycle had been found.

Burrell walked over to them. "It's a nice affluent professional class area. Some people are away having a long weekend and fewer people were out and about because they were having a lie in… the weathers put a damper on the early morning joggers,"

"You were very lucky with the one who was out," Reid said, turning to the detective, " When was your last abduction?"

"A 15 year old, sneaked out after her Mom had told her she couldn't go to a party. She never got to the party, her body was found later near Fredericksburg, but that was 4 years ago now. Most of our crime is drug related burglary and domestic violence, usually brought on by drink"

"The usual then," joined Emily in.

"Yeah, but this neighbourhood is pretty quiet, we don't get many call outs. If a child goes missing it's a tug of love case… you know the child caught in the middle of divorced parents," Burrell explained, "This is different, these are strangers. The old lady has lived in the area for 30 years, retired teacher, knows her neighbourhood,"

"Well, we're lucky to have her sighting," said Hilton, coming over to join them.

"It's unusual for a man and woman to be working together, isn't it?" Burrell softly asked.

"Yes, but not unknown," Reid replied with an equally soft voice but he seemed a little distant.

Hilton had come to recognise that symptom as Reid thinking through an idea and considering if it was worth sharing with the team. But a triumphant voice broke into the quiet moment.

"I think I've got the car!" the voice came from a corner housing a bank of 6 computers. The team and Burrell moved to the one where a petite Latino woman in her 40's sat.

"What you got, Connie?" Burrell asked as he moved to look over her shoulder, staring intently at the screen. His smile told them that they had something to pass on to the media, the State Troopers and Highway Patrol.

"J.J." Hotch called her over, she would be handling the media. Her expertise was appreciated by Burrell, who had recognised her from news reports covering the BAUs other cases across the country.

Within minutes, the public was being asked to look out for a silver 'e' class 280 V6 classic 4 door Mercedes. Meanwhile, the police knew that it was part of a rental fleet based in Baltimore that usually rented out to middle class men who had flown in to do business in the state. The car had been hired by a Thomas Coulsey, and his licence stated that he was from Rochester, upstate New York. It didn't surprise the team, or the police, that the Rochester address was false and further checks led them to believe that the identity was also false. However, they did have the licence photograph to circulate and the atmosphere of the incident room remained upbeat. They had quite a lot going in their favour: a rainy holiday would keep a lot of people in doors until the homecoming traffic of those who had had a long weekend away from the area.

"A patrol think they've found the girl's helmet, a couple of blocks south of where she was last seen. A forensics team is on their way," said a white haired woman with a short unfussy hairstyle.

"Thanks Maggie, let me introduce you, Detective Maggie Demond, she's our specialist in child abduction cases," Burrell explained as he quickly made the introductions.

"You were with the first response team?" asked Hilton.

"Yes, I was already in the office when we got the call. I didn't doubt the parents story…you know when it doesn't feel right after 25 years on the job," she explained in a soft voice.

Hilton nodded; he liked her steadiness and felt her instincts could be trusted. "Why didn't you stay with the parents?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Sandra Corey was doing a good job with the Mom and Gary Frakes, he's just made detective, seemed to be having a good rapport with the Dad. One of us usually stays mobile in case we make a rescue, you know, for processing the child…"

"Yes, of course, it's best to have an experienced woman detective on the team to go through the hospital procedure…Let's hope we manage that, stay close and we'll take you with us," Hotch interjected. He too liked the maternal but no nonsense manner of this detective and hoped that her training would be put to use soon.

The next half-hour seemed to pass very slowly. In the next room a bank of telephones were being manned by officers, the majority of which turned up within minutes of the call going out that the holiday leave was cancelled. The two senior profilers were impressed. This station had a good managerial structure, and it showed in the respect the people had for Burrell and he for every member of the staff needed for the enquiry. They watched Burrell quietly work the incident and telephone rooms; he seemed to know everybody's name and appeared to be able to personalise every conversation he had with his people. It was those little touches that would help to keep the commitment of these people if the trail went cold after this promising start.

" Just had a call from a local vet. A red setter was found running across a major road, near the junction with the highway that heads towards Petersburg, car clipped it and stopped…the people took it to him," said a broad shouldered, athletic looking Afro-American.

"Could of course be pure co-incidence but with the detail about the dog…" he added, to the group that included his boss and Hotchner.

"Nothing should be ruled out at this stage," Hotch said, "Did the vet get the driver's name?"

"Yeah, local people which is why they knew the vet would take the dog in," the detective clarified.

"Right, why don't you and Morgan go see the vet and the driver, see if we can get any more detail," Hotch said. Burrell smiled, as he nodded his consent to his man, and the detective and Morgan headed for the door.

"They'll probably get on well," said Burrell with a twinkle in his eye, "They both looked as if they could do with some action out of here!"

"Morgan's the action man of the team," replied Hotch.

"Des will probably match him toe to toe!" Burrell quipped before suddenly turning serious again,

"That's the guy who got David Smith?" he asked, looking in Reid's direction.

"Yes, he's our resident genius and despite looking as if he's just out of school, he's a very good profiler," Hotch replied.

Burrell nodded, "He's been very quiet, thinking something through is he?"

"Probably, we tend to leave him when he's in these moods, he'll share any ideas when he's ready," Hotch assured, wondering just what was going on inside Reid's head at that moment.

Hilton listened to their conversation but didn't join in; he too had been watching Reid. Hilton had grown to appreciate the young man over the past 4 weeks that they had worked together. Reid was naturally quiet, but he could be quite assertive when he was sure of his ground or wanted the team to think in a different way about a case. Hilton hoped Reid would trust him enough to share some of his present thinking and walked over to the corner he was occupying out of everyone else's way.

En route he collected a couple of coffees as an excuse for invading his space. The smell of coffee roused Reid from his introspection, "Thanks," he said, taking the proffered mug.

"You're being very quiet, that means the brain cells are working overtime," Hilton lightly stated.

"I don't like a woman being involved; makes it more likely to have been planned rather than a spontaneous decision because of opportunity," Reid said and took a few sips of the coffee before continuing, "Then there's the rain. Now that usually reduces the opportunity but this couple still went out, and quite early too. It's odd, you'd have expected them to target a poorer area where more children would have been out early…."

"You think so?" challenged Hilton, deliberately pinning him down to more detail in his thinking.

"Kids in poorer areas are kicked out earlier, no matter what the weather. You know, sometimes to get away from parents …sometimes because the parents want them out of the way for some peace. Makes you wonder why some people have kids," he mused.

"You like children?"

Reid smiled, "I wouldn't have got very far with Catherine if I hadn't passed her 'can cope with children' test…I can't say that mine was a usual childhood, but I do have some happy memories of good times with both my parents." He took another gulp of coffee, "Catherine wants children as soon as possible really," he confided.

"How about you?" Hilton gently probed into this very sensitive subject. There had been rumours that perhaps the quick marriage was because Catherine was pregnant, but he doubted this to be the case. The genius was a reserved person and his wife was no extrovert; a quiet family wedding was just right for them.

Reid drank a little more coffee before replying in a very soft voice, "I'd been in dangerous situations before I met Catherine, but meeting her made me think more about sharing a future with someone. Then there was the kidnapping and everything that followed …well I just realised how precious our lives are and Catherine is a maternal person…a totally doting Auntie," he said smiling, "I said that I wouldn't think about children unless we were married…I must sound very old fashioned, but I think children like the stability of a family unit."

"Yeah, even if the job takes us away from the family a lot, but if we find the right woman it can work."

"I hope so, I think Catherine can cope with it, I've known her over 2 years. Lets just say we're trying, but this case…I don't like cases with children,"

"None of us do, even me, with my daughters all grown up. But now I'm a grandfather and it still gets me," admitted Hilton, sipping his own coffee.

"Those parents must be terrified…thinking the worst. I sometimes wonder if I'm strong enough to be a parent. You know, you give a child all that unconditional love…I mean I really care about Lucy, Daisy and Baby Ben…if anything happened to them…I'm sure I'd be impossible to be with and I'm only their Uncle," the young agent admitted.

"Being a parent is the worst and the best job in the world," Hilton said, "But I know what you mean…and you never stop worrying about them, even when they fly the nest. So you got any thoughts over this?" Hilton casually added.

"It may be nothing, but I remember Katie Cole, you know she's with the Maryland Crimes against Children Unit…well I got talking to her when on a case, it must be a year ago now," he began, "She told me about an unsolved case…one that had drawn a blank but…"

"What about the case?" Hilton pressed.

"A couple of months before, a body of a 12 year old girl had been found on the outskirts of Baltimore. There were signs that she had been in refridgeration before dumping; she'd died from a drug overdose. Her body had scars around the wrists and there were signs of sexual abuse. Anyway, DNA identified her as someone who had gone missing 3 years previously…just vanished of the street while on an errand. Maryland concluded that she had been kept as a sex slave until she got too difficult, or perhaps because she no longer looked the little girl. Baltimore has never solved the case but Katie said what she found really strange, was that the same week this girl was dumped, another 9 year old disappeared in Philadelphia…it's still unsolved."

"And Lorien is a small 10 year old, who has just disappeared from another city …you thinking there could be a connection?"

"I've asked Garcia to do a check for me if any bodies of young girls have reappeared after say 2 or 3 years recently…with indications that they had been kept for sexual purposes. I told her requests about this specific case had priority but…"

"It's worth doing a bit of digging…"

"It may go no where but Katie said that their girl had come from a good neighbourhood, good family, sensible girl…would not have just accepted a lift…"

"But might have felt safe if a woman was involved…" finished Hilton.

"Even better if the woman had a friendly dog and red setters tend to be over friendly," Reid added.

"What are you two up to?" Hotch asked quietly, but there was a tone of suspicion in his voice.

"Reid here was sharing an idea but Garcia may not have had the time to draw out the information yet. I'll get you some more fuel," he said to Reid, "While you explain it to Hotch,"

Hilton made his way to the percolator feeling uneasy about Reid's thoughts, but at least he had an idea of the direction of the young profiler's thinking. He refilled Reid's mug and looked back at the two men deep in conversation in the far corner of the room. Hotch was listening intently, his whole stance taut with the knowledge that if their genius was right then they could been opening a whole can of unsavoury worms. Burrell sidled up to Hilton.

"The youngster got any ideas?" Burrell asked.

"Yeah, and to be honest, I hope he's wrong but he's waiting for the teams techie to do some searches." Hilton replied, "If anything comes up we'll keep you in the loop, but it's just a hunch based on a conversation he had a year ago…"

Burrell looked amazed, Hilton smiled and added, " Reid has this amazing way of seeing patterns and he's got a feel for the work, you know…instinct…intuition or whatever,"

"Yeah, that indefinable quality that we've seen in the best law enforcement officers," Burrell replied.

"Yeah, can't teach it; some people acquire it through experience, some never get near it…" Hilton confided with the senior detective, who he felt was very good at his job.

Hotchner's cell rang, "Yes, Morgan,"

"The vet's treated the dog and is keeping it here for observation, but he took off the collar and checked for a microchip. It had one so he checked the pets'data bases. It was a rescue dog from Brooklyn; the animal shelter routinely uses microchips on the dogs they find new homes for. The new owner gave her name as Faye Downing, a Brooklyn address that Garcia's cross checking right now, told her to call you with the details. We're going to see Rose and Gordon Smalley who found the dog."

"Good, we'll send the collar and lead to the labs just in case there is any thing." Hotch closed the connection, his conversation with Reid had left him very uneasy. Within a couple of minutes the cell sounded again, he recognised the caller's ID.

"OK Garcia, what did you find out?"

"Faye Downing moved from the Brooklyn address 7 months ago, no forwarding address on file.

She was listed as a temping secretary, and according to the IRS, did pay taxes on the work done in the financial district over the past 4 years. The pay may have been good but she couldn't have afforded that area," remarked Garcia. She was being very efficient; Hotch noted that she lost her playful quirkiness when it came to cases involving children. "In a former life, she called herself Willow and was a model from the age of 16, although she called herself 18. She has convictions for DUI; her agency paid the fines and sent her to rehab. She was 19 and so there was underage drinking, but again the agency used a good lawyer. After rehab, she does a little more work and then drops out of the model scene. Then our lady appears to have got into bad company; the DEA were interested in her because of the friends she mixed with…how about playing around in the company of some suspicious wealthy Russians. Nothing seemed to stick and seems to have disappeared since moving out of the big bad nasty Apple!"

"Tell me that she is a tall blond, " said Hotch.

"Yeah, and sickeningly thin…you know, willow like," replied Garcia. Hotch thought he heard the mixture of disgust and envy in her voice.

"Can you get me Anderson," Hotch ordered.

A few minutes later, Anderson was being instructed to contact the New York office to see if they could find any friends, or neighbours, who might have some knowledge of her present whereabouts.

Burrell suddenly was at his side with Maggie Demond, "Got a sighting on the car, heading on the highway south, towards Petersburg. Des has been informed; he and Morgan are joining the chase because they're in the area."

"Fine, I would have sent them too being that close. Maggie you want to come with me? " Hotch invited and saw her nod. She liked this BAU team because they were respecting their policing expertise and treating them as equals.

"Emily, Reid we're moving…Hilton you staying here?" Hotch called.

"Yeah, I'll keep Garcia updated and Anderson in the loop," Hilton said. If the girl were found then the parents would still need to be counselled, no matter what the outcome. They all hoped for the best and the room's atmosphere was once again lifted by news of the car being within their reach. Both Burrell and Hilton stayed glued to the images shown on the occasional Highway monitors. These were then superseded by the continual, but shakier, images of the police helicopter that was soon part of the pursuit of the silver Mercedes.

Hotch drove with both lights flashing and siren blaring. Fortunately there was light traffic, but the rain was beginning to pour down and Hotch was conscious of the need to watch the road surface at the speed they were travelling. At least the highway was straight; any bends would have slowed them down a lot in these conditions. Emily silently sat next to Hotch, not wanting to distract the driver; Maggie and Reid, in the back, had not attempted to talk over the noise their vehicle was making. However, they were united in their purpose and the unspoken wish that Lorien was going to be found all right.

Morgan and Des had formed a good relationship despite only just being thrown together. Morgan admired the detective's common sense and his advanced driving skills, which Des was very proud of at that moment. The Highway patrols were setting up a block to slow the silver car down. Another 3 miles and the guy would have his car heading into a whole road width strip of steel needles, designed to puncture the tyres. The road had to be closed to operate this procedure, but the holiday and the rain was a blessing today. The driving conditions were difficult on the trickier surface because of the deluge that was now descending.

"Jeez, we ain't had rain like this for 6 months. I swear this man's suicidal the way he's driving," Des commented, appreciating the efforts of the Highway patrols that had managed to stop the sparse traffic so they didn't have to worry about other road users. They had the quarry in sight, but he showed no intent of slowing down, and appeared to be increasing his speed despite the weather conditions. Morgan watched through the overworked wipers on the windscreen. The silver car lurched across the thankfully empty lanes, throwing up fountains of dirty spray.

"Approaching the trap… see ahead…hold on!"

Morgan braced himself, part of his brain seemed to register what was happening in slow motion. The quarry had increased his speed even more when he saw the trap. Des began to apply the brakes evenly so he'd have better control. Morgan was aware of patrol cars parked alongside the road where they lay in wait, but he saw the silver car plunge ahead. The steel bed of spikes must have pierced the tyres but still the car was moving incredibly fast; it spun around. The driver still trying to drive on with flat tyres, but the speed was his down fall. The momentum on the wet road carried the car skidding along into a parked police car and suddenly both plunged down a small bank.

Des brought their car to a safe halt and was opening his door before Morgan registered that they had stopped moving. Morgan felt quite shaken but training made him move; there was a child to be rescued and he was soon wet and sliding down the bank with other officers towards the overturned car. Doors were being prised open by Highway Patrol officers who were trained to rescue from crashed cars. By the time Morgan reached the car, the driver was being pulled out.

"Bastard's still alive… no one else in the car" the officer shouted. The activity now turned to trying to get into the trunk.

"We got to get the car more on the level, the trunk is wedged into the bank…" Des instructed, "If she's here it'll be the trunk,"

Eight men heaved together and strained their bodies so they could get it into a position to force the trunk open. They worked not daring to voice the unspoken fear, that the smell of petrol made them think of the risk fire. They were disappointed; all their efforts revealed an empty trunk.

Hotch arrived just as these wet and exhausted men clambered up the embankment.

"They've not found her," Maggie said from the back seat.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Emily.

"Even if they had found a body there would have been some satisfaction of finding her, but look at them, these men have given their all and are feeling defeated," she replied with compassion.

Morgan came over, covered in mud and soaked to the skin, "Bastard is unconscious but no sign of the girl…he just kept putting his foot down, you know like he wanted to kill himself."

The wail of the ambulance could be heard getting nearer, "Emily, you go with the unsub, get finger prints and DNA samples, and stay there in case he talks."

Emily got out of the car and joined the paramedics who were stabilising their patient.

"You OK, Morgan?" Hotch asked, concerned that he seemed unusually quiet.

"Yeah, that was one hell of a chase. Des is quite a guy," he said with admiration in his voice.

"Oh right, he was in his element…he's a frustrated rally driver," Maggie said by way of explanation and Hotch was pleased that Morgan flashed her his charming grin.

"So got any ideas now?" Morgan asked.

"You and Des get back and cleaned up, we'll have to try and concentrate on the woman. I'll have forensics take the car apart, there still might be evidence despite the present problems," Hotch replied and spent the next few minutes on his cell phone with Burrell.

Maggie turned her attention to the very quiet agent beside her, "You didn't expect we'd find her did you?" she suddenly questioned him.

Reid looked at her with large sorrowful eyes, "I think the man and woman split soon after taking her, I … there is more to this and we may just have found a tiny thread…but how far it unravels depends on if our luck holds," he stumbled to explain. But Reid was reminded of the haunted look Katie Cole had when she had told him of her unsolved case the previous year.

"You've got a reputation for putting together threads of evidence," Maggie encouraged, feeling that this young man was all too aware of the enormous expectations that people had of him. She sensed an inherent goodness about him but also a man who didn't quite fit comfortably in to the world. "We are still only 4 hours into this case, we've made a lot of progress and once the forensic evidence starts coming in…why the unsub's prints might be in CODIS!" she tried to keep upbeat.

"Now that would be useful but…"

"We need to get back to Richmond and review what we have, " Hotch suddenly said, as he turned the ignition key, "Reid, get on to Garcia and see if she and Anderson have found out any more about Faye Downing. We'll get J.J. to get some pictures out at the next news update,"

The incident room was subdued by the time they returned but news came through from forensics that the unsub was in CODIS and the spirits were revived again. The silver car had been taken back to Quantico with a priority tag and the labs there were keen to process material quickly, knowing how important time was with missing children. Burrell, Maggie and the remaining team, met in Burrell's office for a quick lunch and to discuss the information that had been gathered by Garcia, Anderson and the labs so far.

Hilton filled them in. "The man is Craig Patterson, 39, with convictions for pimping and Coke possession. But he seems to have kept out of the limelight for the last 5 years. The DEA are interested in him, they suspect some involvement with the Russian Mafia and drugs, but can't prove anything. He seems to have some questionable friends in New York but the company he keeps and tying him into drug running, or money laundering, are totally different things. He seems to have won money in Las Vegas, and invested money in a small restaurant run by his sister in Greenwich Village. It appears all legit. Also a childless uncle left the pair money 6 years ago and Patterson has made some wise investments on the stock market."

"So nothing to indicate why he should be the prime suspect in a child abduction?" Burrell asked.

"No, the DEA have been keeping a quiet eye on him because of his friends but he lives modestly in, Princeton, New Jersey, apparently off the earnings of his investments,"

"And the woman" Reid asked, "Any connection between the two?"

"Not as Faye Downing, but a woman of her description has been seen with him. Patterson's sister says she's a girlfriend, called herself Ashley King, but he hasn't brought her to the restaurant recently. She thought Ashley had left New York and wasn't sure that they were even still seeing each other. Garcia found an address for Ashley King in Baltimore; it's a rented property owned by Craig Patterson. Apparently, he owns three properties which were once owned by his uncle, Dominic Patterson,"

"Mmm…" intoned Reid and Maggie turned and smiled at him, she was sure that there were a lot of threads that the genius was weaving together.

"So what is Ashley King doing in Baltimore?" asked Maggie, unable to stop herself keeping an eye on the youngest. He reminded her of her college-aged son who was studying in Pennsylvania.

"The occasional bit of secretarial temping, and P.A. work. We have a recent photo from her Maryland driving licence," J.J. passed the unsmiling image around, she looked the model type; the thinness of her face showed her strong cheek bones and full tempting lips. Hotch could easily imagine her as Willow, just one of a number of clothes hanger temptresses that filed the women's magazines and ads every day.

"Are all the properties in Baltimore?" Reid suddenly asked.

Hilton checked his notes, "No, an apartment in Baltimore, another in Princeton and a small house in Fairfax, Virginia. The house was previously rented out to an old man who died 8 months ago and Craig Patterson has it listed as belonging to his property portfolio but it hasn't been relet. Patterson's rented out his former apartment in Brooklyn Heights as fully furnished. DEA tell us he only moved just a few boxes to Virginia 6 months ago. Anderson has a warrant and has headed for Fairfax."

"I'm glad I called you people in, we'd never have got this far so quickly with all the resources and contacts you can bring into play," Burrell said.

"You've been doing just great," Hotch assured, "How are the road blocks doing?"

"We've been checking all cars on the Highway going south out of Richmond because he was on this road. But there are a lot of side roads serving smaller communities and these back roads could take you all over the state."

"You checking trucks as well?" Reid interjected.

"Yeah, but there are not many on the road being Labour Day,"

Reid nodded tightly, "I think the woman is lying low for the moment, she'll not go south, the local news station already picked up on the bed of nails incident. I think its best to say that the man was wanted for questioning in another matter…With the interest of the DEA, we might be able to get away inferring a drug interest." Reid drank a little more coffee, but his colleagues were expecting a little more because he'd spent some time talking to Garcia and using his laptop since the car ride.

"I think Lorien was taken to replace another girl who has been disposed of, namely a Cheryl Feldberg. She went missing for 2 years from Dover, Delaware but dumped in the neighbourhood she disappeared from, 8 days ago. Like Katie Coles's unsolved murder last year, that girl, Chelsea Braddock had disappeared 3 years before. They both showed signs of sexual abuse and refridgeration after death implying having to organise disposal, like hiring a suitable vehicle or distance to travel, to put the girl back onto home territory. The girls also died of heroin overdoses. Both Maryland and Delaware have assumed that these girls were kept by someone in their home state; but what if that was the plan all along, to throw us off the scent of an organised paedophile ring."

"That's only two girls," said Burrell evenly.

"There was Madison Bentley from Philadelphia, she went missing from a predominantly white professional class suburb in March '06, turned up dead in the same neighbourhood 11 months later. M.E. said she'd died from a thrombosis, there was evidence of the contraceptive pill in her system and sexual abuse. Mrs. Bentley was one of those women who was advised not to take the pill due to her blood clotting factor, something her child had not been tested for, but it does tend to be 50 hereditary. Five days after Madison was found, a girl disappeared in New Jersey. This was 9 year old Heidi Grindell who disappeared after visiting her friend in nice professional affluent area of New Brunswick; she's still missing."

"Oh hell!" Morgan voiced their sentiments, "And these are all Caucasian girls around the same age and from fairly wealthy quiet areas?" he asked, clarifying what Reid had said.

"Yeah, " I've not had Garcia check New York and New England, I thought I'd just concentrate on this cluster of states," said Reid, briefly sweeping a long elegant index finger across the map covering Maryland, New Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania and Virginia. I think the time scale is interesting: Chelsea Braddock went missing in '03. Patterson has been trying to keep a low profile for the past 5 years, and that seems to fit in around the same that Faye Downing dropped out of modelling and into temping. With Patterson's conviction for pimping, I'm sure he knew what the clientele liked and his inheritance from his uncle has given him a legal income and freedom from regular work. I think his move out of New York is important too. Perhaps his Russian friends encouraged him to leave their pitch or have helped him set up in this part of the country, and a more lucrative area for blackmail, with the capital being within easy reach of Fairfax." Reid speculated.

"Would there be much call for child prostitution with the risk of scandal in Washington?" asked Burrell.

"Prostitution is in every city and some of those girls look very young, you know, just out of school. Some even deliberately play up their skinniness and dress like little girls," Hotch remarked, "There is always a demand but this would have to be very secretive and, if Reid's right, very exclusive and expensive,"

"Exactly, I don't think Patterson has those sort of funds, but the Russian Mafia is another matter. There would be the opportunity to call upon clients for favours in return for keeping quiet about their paedophilia," Reid said.

"Reid, lets keep real here," said Hilton, "I can see the possibility of a paedophile ring with these missing girls but it's a big leap into Washington and blackmail,"

"Perhaps, but with all of these abductions it would have been very easy to get on the state Highway system and head towards Washington and the rich pickings there."

"It's still speculation," Hilton said firmly.

"We need to see if Patterson and Downing/King had any off shore accounts… you know like the Bahamas or Cayman Islands. If Anderson finds a computer, we'll have to see if there is any indication of his finances or suspicious e-mails." Reid persisted, "Why move his New York things to Virginia and not Princeton, where the DEA think he lives most of the time. Fairfax is spitting distance of Washington, I think we need to watch the roads heading towards Washington."

"Reid, are you always this fanciful?" Burrell asked, the scepticism heavy in his tone.

"The more I think about it, the more I…" began Reid but Hotchner's cell bleeped and Reid saw his boss stiffen as he glanced at the ID.

"If you'll excuse me," he said in a quiet serious tone and moved to the far corner of the room.

Everyone was instinctively quiet, perhaps it was Reid and his speculation but then the room went cold as they heard Hotch's side of the conversation.

"Yes Sir,…Prentiss is with the unconscious Patterson, the rest of the team is with me, in this room at the moment…I see… But…Yes Sir," the team passed looks amongst themselves, they had never heard the Unit Chief have such a conversation before. Burrell and Maggie Demond sensed that the team was uneasy. Burrell looked to Hilton and was about to whisper to him when Hotch spoke again,

"I must protest, Sir, we are at a crucial stage…Reid thinks it's a paedophile ring working out of Washington…Yes Sir, …immediately Sir," Hotch closed his cell and looked back at the assembled group. All eyes were on his pale face. Hotchner took a few moments to gather his thoughts before speaking to his colleagues.

"A helicopter will be picking us up in 5 minutes from the helipad on this building. We are summoned back to Quantico, except Emily…We're to report to the Director's office." There was a collective gasp amongst the BAU team.

"Why?" Burrell demanded.

"I'm not sure, but these situations usually mean we are treading on someone elses investigation and we're going to be briefed about it. I've been told that we are still on this investigation, and Emily is to stay watching Patterson. As soon as we know what is going on we'll be in touch. I've been asked that you not say anything about the conversations we've had in this room." said Hotchner eyeing both Burrell and Maggie, "I promise I'll tell you what's going on when I can, but it must be urgent for a helicopter to be sent for us."

The team silently filed out of the room and collected their coats, each keeping to their own thoughts as they made there way to the roof. They stood together on the sidelines as they listened to the hum of a helicopter get louder.

"What have we done?" said Hilton to Hotch.

"I don't know but …when I mentioned Reid's theory, then the Director wanted us in his office as soon as possible…Perhaps your idea isn't so fanciful after all Spencer," Hotch managed to say before the noise made it impossible to hold a conversation.

Reid felt cold and there was a tension growing in the pit of his stomach. He got in the large helicopter. These machines were usually used to ferry department heads between New York and Quantico, he had never heard of one being sent to pick up a team for an urgent meeting with the Director. Reid looked up and found that J.J. had managed to sit next to him, they each gave one another a reassuring smile. In this situation he was glad to have J.J.'s familiar quiet sensitivity beside him. Reid didn't know what was going to happen but he resolved not to loose sight of the missing child. Lorien was still missing and Reid didn't care whose toes he trod upon. He resolved to do his best to keep this investigation alive.

Hotch was sitting opposite Reid and he saw the look of determination set upon his bony features. He guessed it had something to do with keeping Lorien's plight central to whatever talk they were being summoned to.

Hotchner glanced at Hilton, he seemed deep in his own thoughts, and there was a worried look upon Morgan's face. J.J.'s face was pale and she was looking down at her shoes, lost in thought.

Five minutes later they were walking along the corridor to the Director's conference room, a place where only Hotch had ever been before.

The group walked through the open door into a long and spacious room with light oak panelling. The room's only adornment was their national flag and the FBI emblem at one end of the room and a clock at the other. A long oak table dominated the room, large enough to easily accommodate 30 leather-seated chairs.

"Come in and sit up this end," the Director invited brusquely. The profilers all noted the tension in his manner. "Now Agent Reid, I want you to tell me your theory concerning this present case," he stated without any further preamble.

Spencer Reid momentarily glanced at Hotch and saw him give a slight nod of encouragement. Reid took a deep calming breath and then plunged into the ideas he had expounded back in Richmond. The Director listened carefully and once he had finished sat for a few moments in silence staring at the team seated before him.

"Dr. Reid, I knew I was justified in letting Gideon talk me into allowing you to join us at such a young age, but I must admit I didn't think that you would be able to put together such a coherent argument on just a case of child abduction. However, your searches have touched upon other investigations and jeopardise those and I must ask you to hold off…"

"Hold off!" Reid erupted; the rest of the team were momentarily stunned. Their quiet Spencer was not the sort of person to shout, and certainly not at the Bureau's Director, but neither Hotch nor Hilton wanted to intervene because they were proud of the stance he was obviously going to take.

"This is morally indefensible! A 10 year old girl is abducted, the local police department respond correctly and we get lucky and then, just because we appear to be upsetting another department's or agency's plans, we're asked to sacrifice this child! As the father of two daughters, how do you justify that with you conscience?" Reid raged. Hotch noted with satisfaction that the Director looked uncomfortable, but his youngest agent was not finished.

"It's all very well you summoning us here, but you have not told us why or who is pulling your strings!"

"Dr. Reid, that is enough…" the Director began.

"No, it is not enough, you want our loyalty. Loyalty only comes with respect, from where I'm sitting your behaviour is not worthy of my loyalty or respect." Reid's cold fury swept icily around the room. Hotch noticed how Morgan, J.J. and even Hilton seemed to glare at the Bureau Chief with the same hostility that Reid was voicing. Hotchner was proud to have Spencer on his team.

"These matters concern national security, we need some time to act, to co-ordinate…"

"You do not play a watching game when a child is at risk. Nobody's reputation should be protected in this case; child prostitution is illegal, child abduction is illegal. We need to find this child and the woman who participated in her abduction…"

" Dr. Reid!" the Director's rarely heard commanding tone halted Spencer, and the whole team felt as if a bullwhip had been whacked in front of them "I have no intention of letting that child slip into a world of fear and degradation. There is much you do not understand and the work that is behind a complex case." The man drew breath and cast his stern eyes across the people at the table. They all looked rebellious and the Director silently admitted they were all a fine group of decent individuals who held principles close to their hearts.

"Please, " the Director tried to restore some calmness to the table. "It has been found that even the Bureau has been tainted by this. There are individuals in this agency that have allowed friendships, or perhaps obligations, to try and influence cases. At this moment, there are co-ordinated actions taking place by various security agencies, to take into custody certain individuals both in New York and in the Capital area. Your enquiries, Agent Reid were getting dangerously close and people who had been watched, for nearly a year, could have got suspicious and alerted the very people we want."

"That's all very well but little Lorien is still missing," interjected Reid.

"Agent Reid! You are so like your father, will you just…" the Director's voiced sounded exasperated, but there was also a softening of his earlier tight features.

"What has my father got to do with this case?" Spencer retorted, not liking how this man's knowledge of his father was now being used against him.

"Everything!" the Director replied, and then regretted his outburst as the young man's face turned white.

"No, not …I mean, Dr. Reid, your father, has patiently helped to make a case against the individuals we are trying to trap. I am not allowed to speak about his work at the Pentagon but his abilities have traced hidden bank accounts and we are trying to cast the net wide enough so none slip through it. But please bear with me, Quantico is compromised and our New York office. The DEA found two of their people, they thought were utterly trust worthy, have been giving the Russian Mafia tip offs and destroying evidence. The judiciary in New York is also contaminated. There are 4 judges who have been under surveillance because of possible blackmail over using young Eastern European prostitutes, owned by the Russians running the drugs in competition with the Colombian drug barons." The agents around the table were attentive. The Director noted that Agent Reid was still taut and ready to fight his corner again if he thought it necessary.

"Once you started making more searching enquiries about Craig Patterson, and then getting a warrant to search the Fairfax house…which incidentally the DEA had dismissed. They thought Patterson was going to renovate it and then relet it because it's in prime commuter country… However, Anderson immediately sent Patterson's computer back to Garcia, who immediately looked for inter-net banking links and broke into Patterson's Hotmail address. I had an urgent call from your father," the Director gave Spencer a look, " I went to your department and questioned Garcia. She told me that her 'Junior G man' had given her orders…"

The Bureau's Chief shook his head and Hotch felt some sympathy for him; Garcia in a defensive mood over her work and a child abduction case!

"My father knows about Patterson's activities?" Spencer questioned in a much quieter voice.

"Patterson had not been connected with a paedophile ring until now," the Director said, "It was thought that he was acting as an intermediary between for Joseph Lentov, the New York Russian Mafia boss, and his cousin, Leonid Josef, who owns the largest share of the exclusive Aspen Falls complex."

"The former concert pianist?" queried Spencer.

"Yes, after the car accident ended his music career, he invested in the golf course and housing complex at Aspen Fall. The DEA have now managed to find how it was a way of money laundering for his cousin. The people who are members of that golf club include Supreme Court judges, politicians of both Houses and basically any one of the great and the good who want to be seen. Josef makes a big show of donating 10 per cent of his profits to worthy causes and he lives in the biggest house on the site. It is very pleasant, I've been to charity events there, and my wife is on various committees that hire his function rooms at the club house."

"The perfect cover; legitimate charity functions masking illegal ones," said Hotch.

"Exactly, we knew about the New York operation but it's a case of evidence and people didn't want to talk or just disappeared; so it was all rumour but no substance. Then in Washington we had our break with a dying man who told the security services about the special parties, for the boys, that Josef sometimes held. There were usually plenty of pretty woman and drugs to help things along but he couldn't cope with the children."

"Did the informant say how many were involved?" asked Hilton.

"No, he was unsure and he only thought that they were South American. They didn't speak much English, but he gave us a few names of the men attending the party he was invited to."

"So where are the children from?" asked J.J. her concern evident in her voice.

"The DEA believe that there are the occasional deals with Latin America; the drug barons keep their control of the growers by taking the children. Sometimes the children get returned but often they just become part of the stable of prostitutes they run," explained the Director.

"What happened to the informant?" Reid asked.

"He died of cancer soon after telling his story. If he hadn't confessed we would have been none the wiser. We didn't think white middle class girls were involved in this and your actions have made us have to act quicker than we had intended. However, the BAU does provide us with a perfect cover. It would be best if you front the rescue of these girls and that way we can play down some of the men caught in this."

"Sir!" said Hotch, Reid and Hilton simultaneously sounding mutinous.

"These bastards shouldn't get away with it!" Morgan said at the same time.

"I won't be able to work here if there's a cover up!" stated J.J. over the masculine voices.

The Director felt very proud of the people before him, despite the fact that he was the one in the firing line.

"There is not going to be a cover up," he quietly, but firmly assured, " All those guilty will be punished, but we have to be careful not to play into the hands of our enemies. The people who have been arrested and taken to places of safe keeping will be punished, I give my word, but we have to have the best possible evidence to make these charges stick. I left Garcia and Anderson following the orders Reid issued, to keep an eye on the Highway going north out of Richmond for a van or lorry that might have refridgeration for perishable foods."

"Good, I didn't want them to alert the company's but just to check registration and see if it was all bone fide," Reid added, much calmer as things seemed to be keeping the case alive.

"Now I want you to concentrate on identifying the vehicle. The bad weather and the public holiday has worked in our favour," the Director said, "The holiday meant that certain people in influential positions were having a holiday too, so it saved the fuss of having to arrest them in their place of work. Now I want you to go back to the BAU office and see how Anderson and Garcia are getting on. I can't let you leave the building yet, not until I receive conformation that the raids have been successful. Hotch, I need to speak to you alone,"

The other agents left the conference room and headed back to their domain. They were silent, each thinking about what had been said, however, there was still Lorien to find.

Once the others had left, Hotch turned to the Director, "You'd better keep your word or you'll loose all of us," Hotch said in an uncompromising tone.

"Yes, I know, young Reid is a force to be reckoned with isn't he?"

"This is a nasty case and it's getting nastier by the minute. It was unfair to use his father's name," said Hotch, who felt that trying to deflect Reid with bringing his father into the conversation had been uncalled for. Hotch was actually pleased with how Reid had handled himself: the Bureau's Director had not intimidated him.

"I actually have the greatest respect for Will Reid and he has every reason to be proud of his son. Both share a sense of integrity and if they believe in something, they hold true to their position. It's not Reid I want to discuss," the older man said.

Hotch gave his superior his full attention wondering what more was there to be said about a case that had already shaken them.

"Hotch one of those taken into custody is Erin Strauss. Her husband, Jeff, is a member of the Aspen Falls consortium along with his very good friend and fellow golfer, Eugene Steyer, husband of Congresswoman Steyer."

Hotch sat speechless, the pieces falling into place and his suspicions about Steyer being behind Strauss's moves against him.

"Karen Steyer is in Los Angeles at the moment, but she will be met at the airport and brought back in a private jet." The Director continued, "Her phone calls have been monitored for almost a year now, and we know that she has been leaning on Strauss to do her bidding with appointments and the like."

"What did Steyer have on Strauss?"

"Probably Jeff's weakness for one of Josef's girls, a dark Russian girl called Anya, can't be more than 17. Despite his liking for a younger woman, Strauss seems to have tolerated it because it was all carried on discreetly at Josef's home. If he had been seen with another woman more openly, Strauss would have been forced to act. But Erin Strauss liked her life style and the prestigious circles she moved in at Aspen Falls. Of course, the great and the good are all going to distance themselves if we can pin things on Josef … if we can get the vehicle at his house…"

"It will give us just cause for a search warrant,"

"That has already been signed, we know who we can trust. Once Will had Josef's off shore banking details, he could trace back all his payments into and out of his substantial accounts. It was very revealing, but people have been under surveillance for some time, we have quite a lot from electronic surveillance. Steyer couldn't control you, Eugene thought your operation amongst the Washington prostitutes might have thrown up some rumours…they were beginning to get paranoid about their exploits."

"Guilty minds," muttered Hotch, "Does Karen Steyer know about the paedophile ring?"

"She thinks it's an exclusive stable of prostitutes. I've heard a recorded conversation between her and Strauss where she tells Strauss that it's far better that their men use Josef's girls because at least they are not picking women up off the street."

"So it's all right behind the closed doors of an exclusive house on the golfing estate for the rich and influential of Washington," replied Hotch in disgust.

"Unbelievable isn't it? I couldn't take it all in at first, but I don't think either women believe children are involved. Even so, their spouses have a lot of money invested in this complex and there is evidence of payment to Josef from both men, which is believed to be blackmail money. Then there are the payments from Josef, into off shore accounts, to both women and that was for using their influence in specific meetings. As I said, we are fortunate to have this recorded so both of their careers are over, we were waiting for the right time to move."

"Prentiss is not really involved is she?"

"I thought I'd re-assured you over that. I made sure that she was checked and watched very carefully. Reid was trained well by Gideon wasn't he?"

"Yes, but he's his own person,"

"I don't doubt it. You'd better go and see what your team is up to …for all I know they might be about to lead a revolution from within this organisation…And Hotch, don't tell them about the Strauss/Steyer thing."

"Of course, Sir,"

Hotch made his way back to his department. His step felt lighter than it had in weeks; he could continue to enjoy his work again without having to always look over his shoulder, expecting Strauss and her cronies watching him.

The department was a hive of activity and there was an upbeat feel. Hilton beamed at him as he walked into the bullpen,

"They have a possible suspect vehicle. I was about to call you." Hilton said and then whispered, "Everything about the Strauss problem OK?"

"Yeah, it's all over, thank God," he whispered back and then caught sight of Morgan. "So we got the vehicle in our sights?" he asked.

"Ain't Hilton told you?" Morgan queried, looking at the small dapper man and wondered what the two men had just been whispering about.

"He just walked through the door as I was going to call him so he could escape the Director's wrath." Hilton said seriously.

"Hey, Hotch, we in trouble?" Morgan asked, but he'd support Reid's stance to any disciplinary board if the Director turned difficult.

"No one is in trouble, in fact, I think he's rather proud of the team and our integrity. Don't worry every thing is fine. Now, what's been happening?"

They joined the rest of the team in the now very crowded Computer room. Hotch was updated on their findings. The monitors were tracking a small delivery van belonging to 'Four Seasons Organic Produce'. Further checks on this company revealed that it had been running for 9 years and based in New Jersey. Their trucks delivered countrywide and had just opened an outlet on the West Coast, in San Diego. The company aimed at delivering organic fruit, vegetables and organically reared meat to the door, for their exclusive customers. They aimed at wealthy professionals living in the exclusive pleasant housing estates just like the ones where the missing and dead girls came from.

Cross checking vehicle registration and insurance details, it was found that the small truck on the screen was bogus. It did not belong to the legitimate company and was registered to a Marcus Toomey.

"He doesn't exist, died 18 months ago, but he bought the truck and registered and insured it," said Anderson triumphantly, who was feeling very much part of this case.

"We even got a good shot from a gantry camera on the Highway. Enhancement shows a dark haired woman but those cheekbones look familiar. What you think, Oh great leader?" Garcia said playfully.

"She's not my type but a wig can't hide that bone structure, who's with her?" asked Hotch.

"We're working on it," said J.J.

Hotch could see the two women, Anderson and Reid in front of 4 different computer screens.

"They are going through different Photo records…criminal and licensing for New Jersey, Maryland and Virginia. Looks to be around 30, and that birthmark on his right temple is distinctive," said Morgan.

"Right, I'd better tell the Director because we really do have to co operate with other agencies… even if we're going to get the kudos of the rescue," said Hotch.

"Reid worked this one out, Hotch, we should get the credit, in other circumstances we'd be stopping that vehicle now," said Hilton.

"Look, the Director is really very proud of this unit and it's integrity, lets get the best possible outcome for all the children involved in this one. Hilton, call Burrell and have Maggie sent up; she should be part of this too," Hotch said, "And everyone, I know I work with the best team in this building, now carry on," Hotchner said, before he turned and went to his office to ring his boss.

The atrocious rain had slowed the traffic on the Highway, but Burrell had despatched a police helicopter to transport Maggie. She was not too happy about the flying conditions, but it was thankfully a short ride. Maggie was appraised of the situation and felt excited about the arrangements now being made to rescue the girl. But it was decided to keep the parents in the dark, merely saying that they were following a very positive lead.

At almost 17.00 hours, the BAU operatives and Maggie found themselves in a convoy of 6 vehicles heading out from the Pentagon. The rain was now a light drizzle and the short helicopter ride to the Pentagon had been interesting because she could pick out the capital's landmarks. Once they had landed, the team had been escorted to 2 spacious bullet-proof elegant black cars. Maggie wondered if her colleagues would ever believe her account when she got back to Richmond. The Washington public and drivers didn't seem to take any notice of their passing and she mused that they probably thought they were some visiting VIP or Ambassador. At one stage, the traffic was held up to give them priority. Through the darkened windows she saw the small truck that they were sure held Lorien, but the plan was to get ahead and lay in wait for it's arrival.

Maggie was in the car carrying, Reid, J.J., and Anderson. Anderson sat in the front with the driver who told them he was Tom, from National Security. The looks her companions gave her assured Maggie that they felt out of their depth on this one too. Someone else had arranged all of this, not the FBI, and they still didn't know the details for the present operation .

Once out of the city, the rain stopped and it was a pleasant leafy drive to Aspen Falls Golf Course and exclusive housing complex. They swept through the high gates and followed the road, sign posted for the Aspen Valley, not the Aspen Fall Golf Course. They began to sweep down a road with landscaped countryside on either side; the occasional mansion, of varying grand designs, could be spotted from the road. The largest mansion had the most commanding position and was beside an artificial lake. It was to this house, with a walled garden and large picture windows to capture the breath taking views, that they were headed.

However, Tom suddenly drove the car off the road and into a copse of leafy trees. They got out and joined the waiting Hotchner, and another man from 'security' called Frank, to be told the rest of their instructions

"We're on foot from here. The others have already gone ahead. Everyone is to put on a vest; they're in the trunk. Security have already dealt with the surveillance cameras that would have alerted people in those houses…All they see on their cameras is an empty road. We're going the back way in. There are plenty of men ready to take the house as quickly as possible once the truck arrives. Everything depends on when we go in, it's also going to trigger simultaneous raids in New York on several properties but that's a joint DEA and IRS venture." Hotchner said quietly, "Just let security slip in first, their fear is they'll kill the girls before we get to them, but surprise is in our favour."

They set out quietly over the soggy ground following Tom and Frank and within minutes they were in position at the back of the house. No one talked, but Maggie thought over the case and wondered who the man was in the truck with the woman. The databases had drawn a blank. Maggie, and this part of the team, had orders to rescue Lorien. A helicopter was on standby to take her to hospital with Maggie. Her team mates looked very young but they had put on the bullet proof vests with the ease of experience. She still thought that Reid looked like a student; the gun he wore round his thin waist looked out of place on him and the holster bulging out, as it did, only drew attention to this leanness.

"Standby, quarry approaching," whispered Frank.

They instantly became alert and heard the engine before the small truck leisurely swung round to the back of the house and into the delivery area, at the side of the kitchen. The male driver got out, and stretched, relieving his muscles from the drive. The woman got out of her side and yawned, and leaned back in to the cab to get her shoulder bag. They saw that they were both wearing the trademark uniforms of the 'Four Seasons' company. Maggie thought how easily these people could have moved through those nice residential areas without any suspicion. They were waiting for Frank and Tom to make their move, everyone had their guns in hand.

"I'll see how the pumpkin is," Downing said, moving to the back of the truck with the keys in her hand.

Tom moved silently round to the back of the truck, Frank slipped alongside the unsuspecting male. These men were very good; their targets were quietly disarmed and cuffed with in what seemed like seconds to Maggie. The team moved swiftly to the back of the truck. Reid entered first, followed by Anderson, and looked around for a possible place to conceal a small child. Reid indicated a storage compartment with a goats milk symbol but it also had a padlock to keep the lid shut. Reid looked at the woman's set of keys and selected one to try, then another. The fourth key slipped in perfectly and the team held their breaths as Reid lifted the lid. His expression told them that they had found Lorien before his soft calming words.

"Hi, Lorien, my name is Spencer and I'm with the FBI. It's all right, your safe now… I'm going to lift you out and put you into Maggie's lap. Maggie is a detective from Richmond and she's been helping us try to find you all day."

Reid lift her carefully clear of the container and Maggie thought it best to get her outside and away from her prison. She saw a seat over by the kitchen wall and led the way over. Reid gently placed the trembling child into her lap. It was then that Maggie saw her hands were taped together and her legs; there was also thick heavy-duty tape over her mouth. J.J. appeared with scissors and evidence bags but it was Reid who dealt with the tape after he had put on protective gloves.

"I'm going to take the tape of your mouth, it'll pull a bit but I'll be as quick as I can," he assured the victim. Lorien's hazel eyes never left his face as he reached down and pulled decisively.

"Aagh," Lorien's voice sounded quite feeble, but they were all relieved to hear it. J.J. held open the evidence bag for her colleague and then labelled it for the forensic lab.

"It's OK, Lorien, Spencer is going to cut your hands and legs free now. We're going to take you to hospital by helicopter, have you ever been in a helicopter?" Maggie chatted away re-assuringly to the silent girl, as Reid cut away tape and put them in individual evidence bags held open by J.J.

While all of this was happening, Tom and Frank kept the two suspects out of sight. Frank had summoned the helicopter and they could hear shouting and some banging from inside the building. Other armed men in the dark commando type dress came to take the two suspects away in a car. Frank escorted Maggie, carrying the pale and clinging Lorien to the awaiting helicopter.

"Is that little one going to be all right?" asked Anderson.

"Yeah, she was showing the natural signs of shock but Maggie knows what she's doing. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd drugged her as well," replied Reid.

"You people going to join your colleagues in the basement?" asked Tom, "They have found a group of locked rooms…"

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a single gunshot. All the agents were alert and scanned the house from their position. But Tom was already on his cell, indicating for them to wait while he found out what was happening. The team waited ready for action, but this agency they were working with were expertly trained and they acknowledged their superior skills in this situation.

"Josef's shot himself…he's dead, locked himself in his bedroom…pistol in the mouth job…messy!" Tom informed them, "The other staff seem to have put up little resistance. We think it's safe for you to go to the basement now."

A serious looking Director of the FBI gave a brief announcement at 9 o'clock that evening. He stressed the success of the BAU in rescuing an abducted 10 year old girl and others during the smashing of a paedophile ring, run from the exclusive home of Leonid Josef. He informed the public that Josef had shot himself rather than be taken into custody. The Director outlined how a joint operation in New York and Washington with the DEA and IRS had been successful in arresting a major crime ring dealing with drugs, prostitution, extortion and blackmail. The Director said that there would be a much more detailed news conference the next day, at midday. Then his colleagues from the other agencies would also be available to give them a fuller picture of the joint operation and to answer questions.

The team had already been told that the Director would like them to make an appearance at the news conference the next day, but for the moment they all just wanted to go home. They had been successful in rescuing Lorien and 6 Latino girls along with 4 American Caucasian girls, whose families never thought they would see them alive again. The team knew that these girls would all need help for years to come. It was unlikely that the Latino children would be able to safely return home and the families of the American girls were going to face traumatised children whom had become strangers to them, over the time that they had been missing.

The team should have felt triumphant but in truth they were physically and emotionally drained.

Hotchner was grateful for the weight lifted from his work life and told Hayley, that night in bed, that there would be changes but he just wanted to stay in his present position. It had been a successful day and he was immensely proud of his team. He was glad to be home where he tried to forget about the dark world that was his work.

J.J. was grateful that Simon was a good listener: it had been a hell of a day, but going home to Simon's love made it easier for her to cope. What they had found in the basement had appalled her. J. J. was haunted by the faces of those bewildered children who had been confined to their own locked rooms with no contact with one another. Each room had a small bed, table, chair shower, wash basin and toilet. On one wall, there was a T.V. screen that showed them cartoons or films until they were needed. It was a million miles away from J.J.'s own carefree childhood.

Morgan decided to drop in on, Alice, a nursery nurse he'd met a couple of weeks before, her welcoming smile helped to push back the harrowing images of the young girls who had been sex slaves. He did not tell her that he felt disgusted when they had found the bedrooms on the basement level that had been used for the clientele. These had king-sized beds with opulent silk sheets and cushions alongside the braided silk ties, should the clients wish to tie the girls. The walls and ceilings had enormous mirrors so those poor girls could only retreat from the reality of the room by closing their eyes. Morgan had gone outside to the garden and emptied his stomach: he hated cases that dealt with paedophilia.

Meanwhile, Anderson told his wife, Kate, that he really felt valued that day but what he had seen made him feel ashamed to be a man. Kate had held him close and told him that they were going to be parents for the second time. Anderson hoped that he'd always be able to keep his own children safe. Hilton hugged his beloved Betsy and told that it was good to be home. He asked Betsy about her day and enquired when the girls coming for a family weekend before they had to return to the Northwest. Hilton was pleased that they had found the DVDs of the recordings of the activities in the 'client' rooms. At least those poor girls wouldn't be forced to testify, the images were very clear and the men were all going to be prosecuted: pleading guilty would be their best course.

Spencer Reid found his wife making lace in the large reception room at the back of the house.

She smiled and his heart swelled with the sheer joy of seeing her after the emotional distresses of the past few hours. He shut his mind off to all he had seen; they had been successful but he would have no control over the aftermath for the victims. Tomorrow the full enormity of the scandal would break. Spencer sank down on to the brown leather couch beside Catherine. He ached with tiredness; she put aside the lace and snuggled closer to him. Spencer's arms gathered her close and he hugged her, smelling her characteristic old rose perfume. For now, the outside world was forgotten and this home was once more his peaceful refuge.


End file.
